


And Everything Changed

by kaesm21



Series: And Everything Changed Collective [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: (Past) Witch Kim Taehyung | V, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Bisexual Park Jimin (BTS), Blood, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Compulsion, Detective Kim Namjoon | RM, Detective Min Yoongi | Suga, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Character Death, Fake/Pretend Relationship, False Identity, Fluffier Than It Was Supposed To Be, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope & Kim Namjoon | RM Are Childhood Friends, Kim Namjoon | RM & Min Yoongi | Suga are Roommates, Kim Seokjin | Jin & Kim Taehyung | V are Related, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Poly Rapline is Endgame, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rapline Focused, Road Trips, Suicidal Thoughts, Tattooed Jeon Jungkook, Tattooed Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Trauma, Vampire Becky G, Vampire Jeon Jungkook, Vampire Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Vampire Kim Taehyung | V, Vampire Park Jimin (BTS), Witch Kim Seokjin | Jin, everyone is poly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 102,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaesm21/pseuds/kaesm21
Summary: It was on May 19th 2015 that Jung Hoseok went missing.And everything changed.Or, the story where Yoongi and Namjoon are left to pick up the pieces of their broken lives that fell apart that night... and then stumble into a situation where it happens all over again, only this time, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. There's hope. But getting there, reaching that light won't be easy.
Relationships: Becky G/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope (Briefly), Becky G/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Park Jimin (Briefly), Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Park Jimin (Briefly), Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga
Series: And Everything Changed Collective [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769530
Comments: 48
Kudos: 70





	1. I'm Going Here & There But I Always Come Back Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, welcome to my story! Firstly, I want to give a special shout out to an amazing artist, Violetta! The amazing cover art is theirs. You can follow them on twitter as @valeton_vi or on instagram: valeton_vi. Seriously, please check out their art! I highly, HIGHLY recommend getting art commissioned from them, it was a 100/10 kind of experience. <3
> 
> Now 'tis time for a blip about me. I want to assure you that this fic is written at least three chapters in advance, therefore you can expect fairly regular updates, although I don't have a planned schedule regarding that. I will update the tags as it goes along to avoid spoiling too much. Now, I began writing this fic way back in November(ish) 2019 before the whole quarantine and virus outbreak, so the timeline of the fic pretends that never happened. The stuff with BLM also doesn't happen here (though I am in FULL SUPPORT of the cause.) Namjoon & Yoongi are detectives, but I think I've done a decent job focusing only on their desire to solve Hoseok's disappearance, that's it. It also takes place in the US, so if that weirds you out, then I recommend you click away from the fic. Now this last bit is a lot more fun-- at some point whilst writing, I realised I accidentally name dropped a bunch of songs by BTS in the fic. Kudos if you catch them all! I challenge you to find them. It began as an accidental joy I found while writing, and now I do it with intent. Hopefully it brings a smile to your face like it did mine, eh? 
> 
> And now for the LAST last thing, I swear. The title of this fic comes from a song by Becky G-- Todo Cambio. I imagine it to be the theme song of this story, it's got the right vibes. 
> 
> Now enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon's late night at the precinct turns into honouring Hoseok's birthday with Yoongi, and the two of them reminisce old memories and confess something to each other.

Chapter One: I Go Here & There But I Always Come Back Here (Tomorrow, BTS)

Kim Namjoon  
Tuesday, February 18th, 2020  
Portland, OR

The chair creaks slightly as Namjoon leans back into his office chair, a weary sigh on his lips. He drags his fingers through his hair, allowing his eyes to close. It’s another late night at the precinct, another night with nothing but his desk lamp as company. He’s used to this by now, but he’s not used to the sinking feeling of failure that washes over him every time he draws a blank. Regrettably, that’s still every night he does this. 

In his other hand is the cold case file for his childhood best friend. Each night he looks at it, reads over the facts, he’s basically memorised it all by now. On the night of May 19th, 2015, Jung Hoseok was in a car accident off the side of Dyphiella Street on his way home from a party. His car was found, heavily damaged and dented, off the side of the road, but vacant of any living person. 

Except there was blood. A lot of it. And all of it matched Hoseok’s DNA— no doubt it was his. 

Namjoon’s heart still aches, like the soreness of muscles after overexertion. Only unlike soreness, this kind of ache never goes away, not truly. He might have moments where it’s not front and center like it is now, but it always lingers in the recesses of his mind. Four, nearly five, years is such a long time to have something occupy his thoughts like that, especially something so melancholic and painful. 

With another sigh, he closes the file, unable to look at it anymore. Jung Hoseok was so much more than numbers in basic black and white font on the page-- he was _everything_. Warmth, laughter, love, excitement. The world is a much darker place without him, without that radiant smile. One case file isn’t enough to capture the kind of person he was, how much good he did for the ones he loved and how many people loved him. Seeing him reduced to just a file in a dusty cabinet stings like an agitated open wound in antiseptic.

If he closes his eyes, sometimes he can still remember how his gentle fingers felt cupping his cheek. If he gives himself enough quiet and focuses his thoughts, he can recall him saying his name in that unique voice of his. They say that the first thing you forget about someone who passed away is their voice, and it’s something he never wants to lose… but it always takes him so long to remember it, he feels guilty. Namjoon misses him so much it hurts to breathe sometimes. Right now is one of those moments. 

Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the _what ifs_ too, the thoughts that are poisonous to the mind. He wishes so badly that he hadn’t let Hoseok go home alone that night. He’s so desperate in that desire that he’s even dreamt about it. He’s dreamt of so many different outcomes, some horribly gruesome and some harmless. Nightmares and daydreams, all mixed up in one tragic event. None of those dreams change anything though: Hoseok is gone. Whether that means dead or just missing, he can’t dream it to reality no matter how hard he tries or how strongly he wishes.

The only way he can find closure is to find out what happened to his best friend, who hurt him, to find him, see if he’s alive and breathing or deliver him to the grave his parents gave him. Even though he’s had years to come to terms with the idea that Hoseok is dead, he hasn’t. It feels wrong. 

Is it just denial, or is it an instinct he should act on? 

He hopes that time will tell if he solves the case. It’s just so hard when he’s hitting the same wall the detectives hit at the start of it all. There’s no more information, no more discoveries. It’s the kind of head scratching case that nobody can comprehend, not even veteran detectives or bright young ones.

Too much blood for him to get far on foot. His cell phone left behind in the car, the numbers 911 typed into the screen but never called. No footprints, no blood trail. It doesn’t even make sense that he was bleeding-- the trajectory of the blood was inconsistent with the accident. If he had been bleeding, it should have been internally. Whatever he hit didn’t cause the kind of impact that would have done heavy damage to him.

It’s like someone with a car pulled up behind him and stabbed him enough to make him bleed, and put him in something to prevent a blood trail as they put him in their car. 

It’s a bleak story, but the only theory the detectives have come up with since that night. The problem is that _everyone_ loved Hoseok. Nobody has the motive to kill him, and honestly Namjoon would have known anyone who might’ve had dark intentions with him. They shared everything, and Hoseok could never lie to save his life. 

He was like an open book, and not just to Namjoon. He loved people, being considerate and kind was his second nature. He didn’t see the need to lie, and he never had anything to hide. If he hadn’t known Hoseok while they grew up, he wouldn’t even believe that someone as honest as him actually existed. He’s a true one of a kind, a hidden gem. Too good for this world. 

Namjoon considered that once, too. Maybe someone killed him because they were jealous. But that doesn’t fit, either. The crime scene itself appears to be more of a crime of opportunity rather than someone who knew him. There’s no way it could have been planned for Hoseok to hit something on the road, he’d had such a great driver’s record and he hadn’t been drinking that night. 

Premeditation is quickly ruled out. Then he took a look at similar cases… but there are none. Plenty of drive by shootings, plenty of car deaths, but nothing that matched Hoseok’s case enough to be considered done by the same person. 

Stabbing is an intimate way to attack someone, it’s messy and a slow death. Besides that, Namjoon’s taken a closer look at the blood in the crime scene photographs, too. It doesn’t match someone who’s been stabbed. It’s more like his blood was spilled somehow. Like someone slashed his stomach open. 

With a shake of his head, he tries to clear his mind of the thoughts. Even though he’s bound and determined to find whoever did this to him, he can’t stand his imagination for too long. He doesn’t want to picture him that way, he wishes he could picture a blank face, a _John Doe_ in his head, anyone other than Hoseok. 

It still doesn’t get old, despite the passing years. 

He hangs his head down in his hands, emotionally exhausted by the hour or so he’s been here with no new leads. He’s going to call it quits when he feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. 

Yoongi. 

He feels the tension leave his body, relaxing under his touch. “Hey,” he says, trying not to sound nearly as miserable as he feels. It’s useless, though. Yoongi is the only other person in the world who can read him like Hoseok could. Besides… he doesn’t need to hide with him. The blonde male is the last person to judge anyone for feeling _miserable_. 

He gets it. He feels it, too. 

Namjoon isn’t the only one who misses Hoseok. 

“Hey,” he says back, his voice somber as he takes in the documents scattered across his desk. “I think we need a drink. Come on,” he adds, tilting his head slightly. 

“Alright,” the younger answers, collecting the papers and putting them back into the folder neatly, in order. It’s not hard when he spends a few nights a week looking at them, putting them back just as he found it is second nature now. He puts the file back inside his desk and puts his coat on, following his friend outside the precinct. 

There are a couple of nights out of the year that are hard and full of heartache, like today, February 18th… Hoseok’s birthday, but Yoongi always seems to make him feel better. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t judge, or that he’s actually a huge softy despite the gruff image he puts on, or maybe it’s just that he’s Yoongi. Regardless, the bond they share cannot be broken. They pick each other up when they need to, they watch each other’s backs. 

Namjoon’s definitely ready for a drink shortly after they get into his roommate’s Nissan. It’s been a long day, an even longer week, and if he’s honest with himself, a long year. The anniversary date of Hoseok’s disappearance is creeping closer with every passing day, and well… he feels like if he doesn’t solve it before it ticks the five year mark, he won’t ever solve it. It’s ridiculous to think that way and he knows it, but he can’t shake the feeling. 

“So I was doing some thinking,” Yoongi says as he starts his car up, twisting around so he can back out of his assigned parking spot. “We should take a trip somewhere this April. Maybe San Fran or Seattle? I think it would do us both some good to go somewhere new for a break. Neither of us have had one in far too long.” His fingers drum along the steering wheel as he drives, glancing at him in the passenger seat with an anxious smile. 

“I’d like that,” he answers with a nod, smiling back at him reassuringly to show that he’s got nothing to be anxious about. Not with him. Sometimes he gets like that though, and Namjoon knows how to ease his worries with expertise. 

“Good, but you better pick our destination. You’re the one who’s more into tourist stuff,” he says, all hints of worry gone. 

“Sure thing. I think Seattle is a good choice, neither of us have been there before. Coffee and gardens, what’s not to like?” he asks rhetorically, a playful smile crossing his lips as he lets his gaze linger on his roommate. 

“What, no vampires? We can’t skip those,” Yoongi adds, laughter bleeding into his tone of voice. It’s the tone Namjoon likes hearing the best. Nothing beats a relaxed and amused Yoongi. It’s too rare to find, but moments between them can be like that sometimes. 

“Oh no, we won’t forget about that. We’ll go to Forks and go on a stake out for vamps, drinking our overpriced coffee all night,” he says, trying to hold back his own laughter now. 

“And you can’t forget about the crazy kinky sex clubs they must have,” Yoongi says with a smirk, looking over to Namjoon with a ridiculously cheesy expression on his face. “I wonder if they have any _Fifty Shades_ themed tourist sites.” 

“I thought _I_ was the tourist expert here,” he states indignantly, crossing his arms. The smile on his lips gives away his amusement though, and the two of them share a moment of laughter together before they pull into the parking lot of their apartment complex, which was just a two minute walk to their usual haunt. 

Sometimes having a bar so close to home is a bad idea. Other times like right now, it’s perfect. They both exit the car, gravitating closer to each other’s sides than normal friends would. In moments like right now, the urge to grab his hand strikes him only one second before the guilt does. Though he knows his feelings for Hoseok shouldn’t hold him back anymore, they still do… at least with Yoongi. 

Namjoon remembers the moments Hoseok spoke about his college roommate, back before Namjoon met him-- how animated he would get, talking about how lucky he was to have a Korean roommate at PSU, one that actually lived in Korea for most of his younger life, as opposed to the two of them. Sometimes it felt like they were the only two Korean families in all of Oregon. The older they got, the more they knew that wasn’t the case, but it didn’t stop them from appreciating the times they connected with others. 

Hoseok was one grade above him, but they grew up being next door neighbors. In some ways, it seemed like just yesterday he felt the heartbreak of Hoseok going to PSU and choosing to live on campus. Namjoon always suspected that Hoseok had something of a crush on Yoongi, much to his dismay at first… that is, until he met Yoongi, too. 

That instant connection drew him to the other just as strongly as it had his best friend. And one year later, Namjoon moved in with them. Once the three of them lived in the same space, it became so obvious to him how much Hoseok gravitated towards Yoongi. They touched frequently, they sat on each other’s laps, they existed so _closely_. The youngest always felt like he was on the outside looking in when it came to physical affection. Growing up with Hoseok but having a crush on him for most of his life meant he never had the nerve to touch him frequently, or even intimately. Hugging him was nearly enough to send him into a gay panic. He was 100% sure his childhood best friend just thought he didn’t like being touched. 

Now things are different. Namjoon realizes how many missed opportunities he had with Hoseok, and doesn’t want to let someone else who’s special slip through his grasp. Not again. 

He intertwines his fingers with Yoongi’s, pretending not to see the look of surprise on the blonde’s face. But a moment later, when the shock wears off, his hand is squeezed back, and they walk closer, drawn together like magnets. _It’s not weird unless you make it weird,_ he internally tells himself as they near the entrance to Dockside. 

Instinctively, they both reach for the door, and Namjoon can’t help but feel sheepish. The smile on the blonde’s face, though, is infectious. His lips mirror the other’s as they finally make their way inside, Yoongi being the one to open the door for them. As soon as they enter, it’s like there’s a shift in the atmosphere enough for them both to feel somber. It seems like they both remember that they’re grabbing a drink in honour of Hoseok tonight. 

That’s the catch though, he would want them to be happy and celebrate, even if he’s not here to join them. 

“Hey, guys. What’ll it be tonight?” Randy, the bartender asks with a grin. He’s used to seeing them by now, and he’s always been friendly. It almost feels like home here, with how often they come by, whether it be for food or something stronger. Randy and his wife, Clarissa, love to be nosy and butt into their personal lives, but it's always been endearing to Namjoon. He misses his small town sometimes, especially his family, but here he's reminded of how that feels and will always be grateful for it. 

“Hey,” Joon greets in return before pulling out a barstool to sit down. “Whiskey tonight,” he decides, seeing Yoongi’s nod of approval as he takes the seat next to him. 

“Good choice,” he says, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of his chair. 

“Starting the night off strong, I see,” Randy quips but grabs a top shelf brand and wastes no time preparing their whiskey on the rocks with the kind of expertise you’d expect at a trendy bar downtown, not a quaint pub like this. 

It’s Yoongi who answers this time, a sigh leaving his lips. “We could use it tonight.”

“Why the long face?” the bartender asks, an eyebrow raised as he slides over two glasses of the chilled brown liquid. 

“It’s an old friend’s birthday tonight,” Namjoon chimes in, nearly knocking his glass over the edge of the counter. Curse his clumsiness. Thankfully he didn’t spill too much. “He’s uh, not around anymore.” Humming his thanks to Yoongi, who hands him a napkin, the two of them turn a little closer towards one another, wearing matching down turned expressions. 

“Ah, I see. Well then consider it on the house tonight,” the older man says, pulling out a wiping cloth from behind the counter and wiping the spot where some of his whiskey spilled over. 

“That’s not necessary,” Yoongi says, shaking his head from side to side. “You gotta keep this place open, where else would we get good food and booze without going far?” Despite the heaviness that’s in the air between them, the blonde does an excellent job of pretending to be fine, and that today isn’t any different from any other day. Then again, not a single day goes by without Hoseok on his mind, so maybe it _isn’t_ different after all. 

“Boy, you act like I’m in danger of going out of business. That’s not happening any time soon,” the bartender chides with a frown on his lips. “But if you insist on paying, I can’t stop you anyway. I know better than to challenge the two of you. You’re both more stubborn than my wife, and that’s saying something.” WIth a shake of his head, his salt-and-pepper hair falling in front of his eyes, he leaves them alone to tend to another patron on the other end of the bar. 

It’s Namjoon’s turn to sigh now. “I hope we can find the truth this year,” he says, meeting the sad brown eyes of his roommate. 

“Me too, Joon. Me too.” His voice is quiet before he raises his glass. “To Hoseok.” 

“To Hoseok,” he says, clinking their glasses together before downing their drinks. 

A few rounds later, the two of them are knee deep in reminiscing memories, sharing laughs about funny moments from their college years, long before their lives were changed so drastically. Namjoon feels like he’s in a bit of a fairy tale, like he can feel Hoseok’s presence with them. His warmth, his laughter. He can _feel_ it again, and he doesn’t want to let go of the feelings. Not when lately it’s all been heartbreak and heaviness. It feels like he can remember things with a smile, rather than the longing for something that’ll never be. If he’s in a fairy tale, he doesn’t want to leave it. 

“You know when we were kids, we got into so much trouble,” he says, snorting as the multitude of scoldings resurface in his mind. “Hoseok once decided to ‘borrow’ the neighbors' sprinkler system… while it was still going. He dropped it while climbing the fence, and some of the water sprayed into the kitchen, dousing Mrs. Thompson. I’ve still never seen her so angry before.” 

Yoongi cracks a smile, imagining kid Hoseok doing just that. “If I had to guess, I’d bet on _you_ doing something like that, not Seok.” He laughs softly before taking another swig of his whiskey. His cheeks look rosy and his posture so relaxed, like he isn't carrying the weight of anxiety, depression, and loss on his shoulders. 

Seeing that makes him feel warm inside for reasons besides the whiskey. Even if Hoseok is gone, they can keep him alive by moments like this. In their thoughts and memories, he lives on, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day. Even if they never find out what happened, they still have this. They still have each other.

“Hoseok _did_ try to blame it on me, but he couldn’t lie, especially back then. Mrs. Thompson saw right through him, not to mention his hair was still dripping from when he picked up the sprinkler. It was really funny.” 

“Hoseok attempting to lie is always funny,” Yoongi chimes in, amusement seeping into each word as it leaves his upward curled lips. “I remember one time he was trying to lie about his walk of shame shortly after he moved into my room,” he says deviously, as if he still could tease his younger roommate. “He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, and I wouldn’t admit it to him, but I was… worried, so I actually stayed up waiting for him,” he says fondly. It’s heavily implied that he wishes he could tell Hoseok this now. “When he did come in, I felt like an overprotective parent. I even turned the lights on after the door closed. The look on his face was priceless. He tried to say he’d been out late studying all night, but he tripped all over his own words and eventually confessed that he’d hooked up with someone. When I asked who, he confessed it was a guy. That’s actually how I found out he was bi. His reaction was really cute. Until that point, I’d never seen him _nervous_. His confidence was some crazy level I didn’t understand, so it was refreshing to see him act like a normal human being for once. I did feel bad for making him so nervous, though, so that’s when I told him I was gay. We bonded so much better after that.” The look in his eyes is so far away, like he's truly living in the past for just that one moment. 

Namjoon remembers hearing the story long ago from Hoseok’s point of view, but thinking about it from Yoongi’s brings quite the smile to his lips. Being Hoseok's childhood best friend meant that he could barely remember their first impressions of each other, not that it mattered much as elementary schoolers. He always knew Hoseok’s insecurities and seen the less-than-confident stages of life he’d been through, and vice verse. But Yoongi makes him see Hoseok differently, and it’s no less wonderful. A suave, confident roommate who seems to be good at everything (except lying), and discovering the hidden inner dork later really must be special in its own right. 

Yoongi’s so used to Namjoon’s brain that he doesn’t comment when it becomes clear that he’s lost in his many thoughts. Oftentimes, he wonders if Yoongi had the feelings for Hoseok that he does, but he’s never had the nerve to ask about it. His hyung tends to keep things closer to the heart than anyone he knows, and he’s never wanted to agitate such a huge potential wound. Something about tonight, though, and the way he looks is comforting and invites his locked up thoughts to come out. Maybe the alcohol is part of it, but it's also certainly the ambiance. Something about the comforts of being close to home, reminiscing the past, and being in their local haunt make him feel brave. 

“Yoongs,” he starts, his tone softening to just above a whisper. “Did you have feelings for Hobi?” 

He doesn’t even have time to start fretting about it when his roommate answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Yes,” he says, his eyes drooping to his half empty whiskey glass, swirling it in hand. “But I never made a move… I always thought that someday I’d be his best man in his wedding with you.” 

The look on his face must be really comical, given how Yoongi’s face lights up in amusement, dispelling the heavy atmosphere between them. “What? No way. You can’t be serious, hyung. No way he ever looked at me like that,” he says, adamantly shaking his head. “If there’s anyone he would have married, it would have been you. He always spoke so highly of you, like you walked on air. I hadn’t ever seen him so hopelessly in love before.” 

Now it’s his turn to be amused by the blonde’s expression, because it really is quite entertaining. “You’re joking,” Yoongi says, swiftly returning his expression into one of carefully crafted neutrality. “Don’t mess with your hyung like that, it’s not funny,” he says, even though his cheeks are slowly turning pink. It’s one of the most endearing sights he’s seen in a long time and he _has_ to learn how to get that to happen more often.

Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel any sort of jealousy, and he doesn’t sense it in the man across from him. Namjoon is sure it’s possible to love two people at once. He’s never experienced it first hand, but… Hoseok was always open about being polyamorous since he discovered that fact about himself, and Namjoon... he’s dreamt more than once what it would be like to hold both Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s hand, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised jealousy doesn’t seem to be present. 

“I’m not joking, hyung. I didn’t know how to encourage him to ask you out, and he never outright said it, but he really did love you,” he insists, sorely tempted to pull out his phone to capture the bashful sight of Yoongi, fidgeting with his glass and running his other hand through his hair. “I always thought about setting you guys up somehow, but I wanted it to happen organically, so I never did.” 

Namjoon takes his hyung’s free hand when it lands back on the table, a soft smile on his lips. “I… always had feelings for Hoseok, too. But I liked seeing him so happy with you that I never felt jealous.” The confession happens so naturally that he doesn’t feel awkward about it. Surely this conversation is supposed to be awkward, right? Though he’s grateful that it isn’t. If he made things uncomfortable with Yoongi, he’d feel ridiculously guilty for having said anything at all. 

“I’m not surprised by that,” Yoongi says fondly, his expression full of an emotion Namjoon has no idea how to read. “Joon…” the nickname leaves his lips with a foreign heaviness that’s not usually present, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to form the words. The hand in his tightens as if he’s trying to convey his thoughts through touch. 

Saved by the bell, so to speak, Randy comes up and they separate slightly, having been drawn in closer than usual. “You guys doing okay? You should eat something before you drink more, or you’ll have one hell of a hangover to deal with later.” 

It’s Yoongi who responds to him first, the heaviness going away just as fast as it appeared. “I think you underestimate our tolerance, but sure, that’s a good idea. How about we get some fries?” he asks, transitioning smoothly like their conversation hadn’t just been as important as it felt. He’s never _not_ impressed at how Yoongi does things like that, like it was breathing. 

“Coming right up,” Randy says with a smile, pouring a large glass of water for each of them. 

The ice tingles against the ribbed glass as he walks away. Not even a moment later, the blonde across from him pours a fresh shot of whiskey for them, almost as if he needs it to say what’s on his mind. With practiced ease, he watches with wide eyes as Yoongi takes the shot before he hesitantly takes his own. He also follows it with a sip of water, more aware now than before that the room is spinning slightly. 

“Joon-ah, I think after we eat the fries, we should head home.” 

Whatever moment almost happened no longer feels right, but things don’t feel soured or awkward. Namjoon likes to think that there’s a right moment for everything, and maybe the night of Hoseok’s birthday isn’t the right night. He’s perfectly content indulging in memories and joy, preserving his memory tonight. Tomorrow will come, and with it, a brand new day. 

The two of them share more, bits and pieces of their college days before they knew each other as well as they do now. They take turns munching on the deliciously over salted fries, attempting to sober up. With soberness comes a wave of tiredness, and so there’s no protest when the two of them walk, still hand in hand, back to their shared apartment. His heart still aches, but right now it’s warm, and he can’t ask for more than that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Did you catch the song title references? ;) 
> 
> Anyway, if you liked the chapter, please drop a comment or leave a kudos! I love interacting with my readers and respond to all comments. <3 
> 
> Take care loves, stay tuned for more!


	2. In a Second & It was Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi's vivid dreams and nightmares take him back to the night Hoseok went missing, and upon waking up from it, he's not in a good headspace. Namjoon comforts him and does what he can to make him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for showing this fic so much love, I'm really happy to see people enjoying it. Every kudos, comment, and bookmark means the world to me. I've been lacking confidence with writing, so seeing that people enjoy it makes me so ridiculously happy!! 
> 
> In this chapter, you get a healthy dose of Past!Yoonseok and Present!Namgi. This fic is a little slow to start off with because I really wanted to deeply character dive, but once we hit the plot, I promise the pace will pick up. 
> 
> Now enjoy!

Chapter Two: In a Second, & It was Different (Todo Cambio, Becky G)

Min Yoongi  
Wednesday, February 19th, 2020  
Portland, OR

Bright, golden sun leaks through the standard white blinds that their apartment came with and tickles the skin of Yoongi’s face, stirring him slightly from his slumber, not enough to wake him entirely. With an instinctual frown on his lips, he rolls to his side, away from the unwelcome brightness, very much preferring to snatch some extra sleep on his day off. The sun on his back feels warm and comforting despite the typical chill of February, and the gentle glow to the room is comforting now that it doesn't shine directly on his face. The subtle warmth quickly lulls him back into a full slumber, unaware of the world around him, sinking back into his dreams. 

Yoongi’s dreams are always far too vivid, and he always remembers them upon waking up. This dream is no different-- right now he dreams of the last night he saw Hoseok with perfect clarity. The bass thuds rhythmically beneath his feet, and the air smells like sweat, beer, and weed. Parties aren't his typical scene, but knowing the host, Ashley Frangipane, makes it way more tolerable than 99% of the parties most uni students attend. He also feels a bit out of place, having graduated already, but his two roommates are here somewhere and he's still a guest, so he really shouldn't feel that way. Like he's summoned them from his thoughts, amidst the crowd, he sees Hoseok having a relatively tame dance battle with someone he himself doesn’t recognise. Namjoon can be seen walking to the kitchen with one of his computer science major friends, and having seen them, he feels a little less out of place. His gaze drifts back to the redhead, who's a little hard to miss. 

He’s perfectly content to stand nearby and watch as Hoseok smiles, laughs and cheers on other people dancing, clearly surrounded in his element. Moments like these warm his heart, because he knows how much Hoseok talks about missing dance, and even if it's a small house party, he can see how excited he is to be dancing. The few times he's witnessed him dancing, the more Yoongi disagrees with Hoseok's parents' decision to pull him off of the dance team before high school, 'to focus on his studies to get a _real_ career,' they said. The blonde finds himself mourning the loss of his dream just like he mourns the loss of his own, but he respects the decision Hoseok made to not go against them because he did the same. 

Humming softly, he tries to tell himself to focus on having a good time, because that's what he's here to do. Only something about the night sets him off, like he needs to be vigilant. His instincts usually are right, but he talks himself out of the feeling, determined to try and have fun. The party has been good so far, and greedily, he’s thankful that his roommates both seem to not show interest in hooking up with anyone tonight. He continues to nurse his shitty drink-- easily the worst part of tonight thus far-- and enjoys the buzz beginning to settle over him, calming his nerves and his anxiety like a dial being turned down slowly.

It’s a few minutes later when the redheaded Hoseok walks back over to him, and all words get caught in his throat and he sips on the ‘moscow mule’ in his solo cup with a grimace. Whoever made it did a truly shit job of doing so, but it provides the necessary excuse to not meet his eyes after getting caught staring so hard. _How long has he been staring?_

“Yoongi,” the redhead says, effortlessly taking his free hand. “Dance with me, _hyung_.” 

God, he can’t say no to him. Ever. It's not fair how weak Hoseok makes him, it really isn't. “Seok, the dancefloor is your specialty,” he protests weakly, meeting those warm brown eyes and all defiance in him dies. How can he say no to the adorable, charming pouty face? 

“Come on,” he pleads, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His roommate isn’t ever forceful, but he himself is a force of nature, always urging Yoongi to step outside of his comfort zone. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he humours his friend, so he gulps down the rest of his terrible drink and leads him to the dancefloor before he has a chance to think better of it. He grumbles “Alright, alright.” His tone doesn’t dismay his roommate in the slightest. They know each other so well, so intimately. Words aren’t always necessary between them at this point, and Hoseok is very well aware of his tone and how he’s feeling about things based off of it. It’s the kind of intimacy he never thought he would find, but now that he has it, he never wants to lose it. 

They begin bouncing to the beat just like everyone else around them, but it’s only a matter of time before the redhead begins to _really_ dance. As the song builds for a beat drop, he finds himself inspired by the person across from him, and he keeps up, trying to match his level with dance. It’s invigorating, moving his body to the beat of the song and enjoying music the way Hoseok does for once. 

While Yoongi is a musician and feels the beats, the passion, the driving tempo, his perspective on music comes from a composer’s view. Right now, he can experience music through the filter of a dancer’s-- embodying the music, not just feeling the beat but adding to it with his body. It’s a deeper level of understanding that he feels giddy about. His first love is the piano, but moments like these remind him of what it felt like to fall in love with music in the first place. 

And maybe he’s a little bit in love with his roommate, too.

Being so close to him, watching as his forehead beads with a thin sheen of sweat, shouldn’t effect him so, but he’s dizzy and full of years of longing. They dance to the fast paced beat like his body’s internal tempo is trying to outpace the song blasting from the speakers. Once long, long ago, Yoongi danced a bit, but nothing like Hoseok. He never connected with the music like he is right now. Maybe dancing is a hidden passion of his, and the redhead across from him is the key to unlocking it, or maybe he's feeding off of his roommate's passion. Hoseok's emotions always have been contagious.

If it had been anyone else, this wouldn’t be possible. Yoongi would be wrecked with nerves, overthinking, anxiety so strong he might have an attack. That’s why he doesn’t do these kinds of raucous parties… but he’s here with one of the people he trusts most in the world, the person who fires him up in the right moments and soothes him in the others, so instead of feeling insecure, though, he’s determined to prove he can keep up. 

Only Hoseok can fire him up like this, and spark his competitive side. He can’t find it in him to complain though, because now he has many unobstructed views of the way his body moves. Each beat is accentuated with the right movement, flicking his wrists and _fuck_ , the way his hand drags through his freshly dyed locks is the kind of sight that surfaces mostly in his dreams. With each passing song and rocking of their bodies, they’re drawn closer together. Even though they’ve never danced like _this_ before, it doesn’t feel unnatural. It feels right. 

He allows their bodies to brush closely, and it doesn’t go unnoticed as the beats change to a sensual Spanish song he knows Hoseok likes, maybe too much for Yoongi’s sanity. Their eyes connect, and it looks like the redhead knows _exactly_ what he’s doing to him when he rolls his body so _close_ to his, if that smirk on his heart shaped lips is anything to go by. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but his anxiety isn’t present. Actually, no, it’s probably because Hoseok is there. Even though he suffers from a painful crush on him, he’s very rarely anxious when his roommate is close by, even if they’re like this. Instead, his whole body feels like it’s buzzing with excitement, wondering if maybe he’s worked up the nerve to do something about that crush he has. 

Those slim heart shaped lips sync to the foreign words of the song, and even though Yoongi doesn’t have goddamn clue what they mean, he knows they’re dripping with sensuality, and this time, Hoseok’s gaze isn’t on someone else, like he’s seen in times before... it’s trained on nobody but _him_. He can’t help but shiver slightly, wondering what it would be like if those lips whispered the words into his ear. He wondered if Hoseok would translate for him in the sexy tone he reserves for lovers and their underground rapping sessions. 

His face feels like it’s boiling with how hot Hoseok makes him feel, and he finds himself turning around to escape the intensity of that gaze. But feeling his roommate’s slightly larger body behind him doesn’t make him feel less intense by any means. If anything, it’s stronger as the redhead guides him closer, and he can feel his steady breath on his neck. The realisation is dizzying, and he can’t tell if it’s the cheap alcohol he’s consumed or if it’s because one of his wildest dreams might be coming true tonight, regardless he might kill him if they stop now, it feels _so good._

Yoongi really needs to stop being surprised when his adorable, dorky, cheerful, loving roommate turns out to be a living, breathing sex god on the dancefloor. Hoseok is nothing if not full of duality and contradictions, but knowing that doesn’t ever stop lighting a fire inside his body and heart. He’s got it so bad for him. Why can’t he just admit it? Their bodies fit together so well, Hoseok already has his heart in his hands without knowing it. They would work so great-- why can’t he go for him? _You know why,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully. 

He swallows nervously when Hoseok’s hand slides over his hip, resting on a sensitive part of his waist. He exhales sharply, immersing himself in the feeling of those slim fingers sneaking beneath the hemline of his shirt. It’s such a small touch, but it feels so _intimate_ and he can’t help but want more. His mind reels from being surrounded by the object of his affection bordering on four years. It feels so good, so right. His alcohol-muddled brain soaks up the attention, and he subconsciously finds himself grinding backwards against Hoseok, hoping to get a reaction.

A smirk crosses his lips as he hears the sound of surprise the redhead emits before holding him tighter, his blunt nails sinking into the skin at his waist. The friction between them causes his body to react, and he feels so desperate after so little interaction. “Seok-ah,” he breathes out, reaching an arm backwards over his head to tug on the soft locks, slightly damp with sweat. He's playing dirty, he knows, because his roommate's head is sensitive, but it's so worth the sounds he hears next to his ear. It sends a jolt of white-hot desire down his spine, his whole body full of anticipation.

“Yoongi,” he answers back, his guttural, gruff voice heavy with lust rumbles next to his ear. His body rolls again in time with the music, and Yoongi can _feel_ Hoseok’s arousal pressed up against him. Feeling sexy and desirable is a foreign feeling to him, but right now, it feels like a revolution. He’s wanted by someone he desperately wants. “ _En un segundo y fue diferente a como solía ser_ ,” he sings in a lower tone than the original artist. Hoseok's arms wrap tightly around him, making him shudder yet again as he gets lost in the feelings of Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.“ _Tocó mi cuerpo y en ese momento. Todo, todo cambió."_

He has no idea what those words mean, either, but damn did it sound good in his voice like that. Sometimes Yoongi forgets that Hoseok can sing when he wants to, and it should be illegal, especially when he’s tipsy and desperate. Though he loves the sounds he’s making as he continues to sing a language he doesn’t understand, he wants those lips to be busy doing something else. Preferably something with his. He _knows_ the redhead’s a good kisser, having overheard things he likely shouldn’t have from girlfriends and the occasional boyfriend. He’s watched many people lose themselves when Hoseok kisses them, and he knows that if their lips met, Yoongi would be no different than the others, especially when he's had so long to ponder what it would feel like. 

But he can’t bring himself to turn back around and be that bold-- His heart beat races inside his chest, and he returns everything Hoseok gives and more. His brain is too absorbed in the moment to process what they’re actually doing and how it’ll affect their friendship. He loses himself in the dimmed lights, heat trapped between their bodies, and the beats of the music. The sensations of every touch, of those slim and cool fingers exploring his skin, of the blunt nails sinking down into the intimate skin of his hip absorb his whole being. His body feels like it’s buzzing with energy, like a battery charged up and ready to go. Nothing else matters. 

Until his eyes slip closed, that is. He sees ugly flashes-- blood splattering against a street, a shrieking sound of a car crashing, sharp white teeth gleaming ominously. It startles him like a slap on the face, dispelling the atmosphere, sobering him up a little. Maybe he jerked upwards, because the reaction from his roommate is instantaneous. “ _Hyung_ , what is it… did I do something wrong?” The worry in his tone is so, so obvious. 

“Hobi, no,” he insists, twisting back around to take his hand. He can’t quite meet his eyes, though. “You did nothing wrong, I just… had a flashback is all.” That was always his fall back excuse. Truth be told, he has no idea where these images pop up in his mind, these dark, ugly sights he never wants to see. It’s happened occasionally since he was young, but there hasn’t been any medical or scientific reason for them. It’s like his brain exists to torture himself. Now it’s ruined something he’s wanted for forever. Shame washes over him rapidly, causing his gaze to fall down to the floor nervously. _Fuck_ , there are too many people around him, and now that he’s no longer distracted, their presence is impossible to ignore. His breathing grows shallow and he’s desperately trying to stop himself from feeling overwhelmed. He can feel all that energy from moments ago boil over into a near panic attack, and his hand shakes even in Hoseok’s grasp. The dizziness he felt earlier returns but with it comes a startling panic, making him feel nauseous. He closes his eyes and squeezes the hell out of the hand in his. 

“Hyung, I’m sorry I went too far,” the redhead says apologetically, remorse obvious in the weight of his voice as he speaks. It makes the guilt he already feels double, because now he’s made him feel bad, too. _Shit._

Get it together, get it together, he tells himself. He opens his eyes and hopes he can convey his sincerity by meeting his gaze. “No, no, it wasn’t your fault. I… just sometimes get them out of the blue. Usually whenever I’m happiest, by some twist of fate. Don’t feel guilty,” he insists before frantically leading him off of the dancefloor, away from the crowd. He still feels shaken by what he’s seen, but his friend needs to know that he was having fun just moments ago. He squeezes his hand, making sure he doesn’t lose him in the crowd of drunken college students. 

“It’s okay, Yoongs. Are you okay? I can get you some water,” he says, scrambling to walk at his side and looking at him with big, worried eyes. 

Yoongi certainly prefers the sultry look as opposed to this, but he doesn’t think he can bring that back at the moment. His momentary panic has lessened with the instinct to ease his roommate's worries, but the anxiety is still eating away at him from the inside. “Why don’t we get water together?” he asks, curling his body around his arm to show he’s not scared by close proximity, that he wants to be as close as possible to him, that his panic had nothing to do with them dancing. It’s calming, being pressed to him when he’s like this, and he thinks it’s doing him some good, too. His heartbeat is slowing, calming with their proximity. 

The redhead nods silently and takes the lead to the kitchen, keeping the distance between them minimal, as if he needs the close contact, too. It reassures him that he didn’t screw up too badly, to his immense relief. He would hate it if Hoseok feels like he needs to walk on eggshells around him or think that he didn't like what they were doing because that couldn't be further from the truth. He takes a deep breath, inhaling Hoseok’s natural musky scent, and feels better. When they enter the kitchen, Hoseok squeezes his hand tightly for a moment before letting it go to open the fridge. Yoongi doesn’t want to be away from him, so he wraps his arms around his waist, cuddling up to him like he is a giant teddy bear. Hopefully seeing how much he wants to be close to him will ease whatever worries are running through his head… because that’s what it does for him. Holding him like this makes him feel further away from the worries and the moment of panic. 

His plan seems to work for Hoseok, too, because there’s a smile on those heart shaped lips, albeit a bit smaller than usual, like it’s formed with caution. Yoongi hates that it was him who caused it, but takes the small victory. “Thank you,” he says, accepting the unopened bottle of water. 

“Always,” the younger answers back. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” his voice is tender, full of concern, and it makes his heart beat erratically inside his chest for reasons different than panic. Leave it to him to go from hot and sexy to soft and loving in such a short time. How is Yoongi supposed to keep up? 

He does the one thing he can do, despite the noise of music from the living room, he chooses to open up. Thankfully there's nobody else in the kitchen at the moment. “I saw flashes of my nightmares when I closed my eyes, and I don’t know why,” he answers more or less truthfully. The alcohol in his system causes his words to slur slightly, but it doesn’t take away from the truth in them, he hopes. He’s never told Hoseok or Namjoon what his flashbacks are of, and they've never pried too deeply, but he’s likely accidentally led them to believe he’s had an abusive ex or something of the sort. He never meant to mislead them. “Seok, it’s probably not what you’re thinking. Since I was a kid, I’ve always had these morbid dreams of people dying, and there’s usually lots of blood. I’ve never been hurt personally, but I get startled by those dreams and flashes. It spikes my anxiety because..." he trails off, his thoughts sobering his mood as they come out of his carefully crafted box for them. "Do you remember my childhood friend, Jaemin?" he asks, and continues after seeing the other nod. "I dreamt about him right before he died. Sometimes I get flashes of morbid things, and I just... blame the trauma of losing him and my parents. They come out of nowhere entirely, so please don’t blame yourself or think you triggered me,” he states, a weight lifting off of his shoulders as he finally tells the truth. 

Hoseok pulls him into a tight hug, nuzzling his cheek with his nose, and all feels right in the world. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you. I’m sorry you’re having dreams like that. I know you usually want to take care of me, but let me take care of you, too.” His words go straight to his soft, soft heart and he melts into the embrace, allowing himself to be comforted. With him, it’s so easy. "Thank you for opening up to me, hyung. I'll always be here for you, Yoongi."

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon’s concerned voice surfaces somewhere to his left. 

“I just had a panic attack,” Yoongi confesses, even though that’s not quite the right way to phrase it, his brain isn't fully functional at the moment, and it took a lot out of him to reveal that, as small of a confession as it was. Tomorrow, he'll fill him in on everything he's said because he doesn't want it to be a secret anymore. For a moment, he contemplates what he wants to say next, deciding to take a bit of a chance. “Seok-ah is comforting me, but I could use another pair of arms.” He subconsciously holds his breath until it’s obvious that the other doesn’t see his request as anything weird.

That’s all it takes for Namjoon to discard his drink and join in the hug. Nestled between the two of them, he feels so safe, like he can't be hurt. It's silly, but it's like they're a barrier, protecting him from the demons inside him, the ones that haunt his thoughts endlessly. With them, he genuinely feels like he'll be okay. He can only remember that feeling once, and that was back when he was little and his family was whole. With his panic gone and his defenses lowering, he feels a wave of exhaustion. Anxiety can take a lot out of him, and even if it wasn’t a full on panic attack, he still feels drained. The warmth and the alcohol in his system calms him down and still encourages him to relax more. As the three of them hold each other close, the security lulls him into a somewhat sleepy state, and his head falls onto the tallest’s shoulder after a couple of moments. He's not sure how long they stay like that, exactly, but he's too content to care or move, and has no reason to when both people holding him don't seem to want to move yet anyway. The moment lingers, for how long, he's not sure.

He’s awake but only barely when he hears Hoseok’s voice say, “We should head home.” 

Resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder means he can feel him nodding, and of course he doesn’t have any complaints about going home after all that, even though he's enjoying the comfort they've already given him. Sleep is far more preferable than letting the dark, self-loathing voices in the back of his head take front and center, anyway. “I’m fine to drive, I didn’t have more than one beer, but do you want to take him?” his lower voice rumbles. 

“Good, and in that case no, you should keep him with you. I came here from the gym, so my passenger seat has all my books and gym bag on it. Yours would be more comfortable, anyway,” the redhead answers back truthfully. “Plus, I got him all to myself for a bit. You deserve a turn, Joon.” The way he says that brings a lazy smile to Yoongi’s lips. He feels so cared for between these two. There’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He doesn't know how he got so lucky to meet them both, but he's never been one to believe in things like that anyway. 

“Alright. Why don’t you head out first? I know you’re probably dying for a shower by now,” Namjoon says knowingly. Hoseok despises going to sleep sweaty. 

“You got that right,” he says, a chuckle leaving his lips. Yoongi doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know that the heavy moment has passed. For the briefest moment, he thinks he feels Hoseok leaning in to give him a kiss, but to his disappointment, he ruffles his hair instead. “Sleep well, Yoongi. I’ll see you both at home.” 

After Hoseok leaves, Yoongi curls closer to Namjoon and sleepily follows him out to his car before promptly falling asleep, his head resting against the window of the car. The flashes always took a lot out of him, mentally and physically. Thankfully his two favourite people in the world support him, weirdness and all. This isn't the first time they've done so, either, but each time, he finally starts to believe that not all people suck. They certainly don't. 

* * *

Present day Yoongi jolts awake, rubbing his eyes blearily as he sits up. Why is his vision blurry? Oh… he’s crying. The dream of the past feels so _real,_ reminding him of the closest they’d ever been only for them to be torn apart not even an hour later. There’s so much he wishes he could change, like letting Hoseok go home alone that night. Why hadn’t he insisted they all go home together? He should have clung to him, made an excuse that they could get someone's car the next day, that he needed to hold onto someone. _Fuck_. He bites his lower lip, trying to hold back more tears as he becomes more aware of his surroundings, of the present. 

“Yoongi?” Namjoon asks, poking his head inside his bedroom, concern on his face. 

“Morning, Joonie,” he mutters, a sigh on his lips as he holds the sheets closer to himself, trying to hide his face. Crying isn't something he does often and he doesn't like others seeing it, even if Namjoon's seen him at his worst and still hasn't judged him for it. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” 

The blonde is grateful Namjoon picks up on the unspoken plea for company, and he fights the urge to curl into him like he wants to, like he did the night that everything changed. “Was it another nightmare?” he asks softly, taking a seat next to him on the bed and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The warmth radiating from the touch is enough to fill his heart with longing. 

“It was about that night…” the older answers, his feelings overwhelming him. Were his feelings for Namjoon only present because he misses Hoseok? It makes him feel sick with himself, and he doesn’t allow himself to seek out more physical comfort. Not until he’s figured out the mess of his complicated emotions. 

“Hyung, it’s okay to be sad,” the taller of them says, his voice so soft. “You can lean on me, you know. You like to be the caretaker between us, but it’s okay to need support sometimes.” 

The words are eerily similar to what Hoseok said to him that night, and it causes his eyes to sting harder. The only thing is… Yoongi doesn’t want to give into that feeling right now. “Thank you, Joonie,” he murmurs before taking a deep breath, steeling his nerves. “I’m okay, though." He runs a hand over his platinum hair and rubs his eyes, feigning sleepiness, and wiping away the tears that fell before he fully woke. 

The tall man across from him doesn’t seem to believe it, but also doesn’t question it. He shows him a soft smile and pats his leg. “Anytime,” he says. “Since you’re up, why don’t we eat breakfast and work on some music?” 

It’s been a long time since they’ve done that, but maybe it would be just the right thing for him to work out how he feels. His old spiral notebook from high school and college is nearly full of lyrics, messily scribbled in and in an assortment of colours. It’s been neglected for a few months at least. “Sure,” he says simply, grateful for the way Namjoon handles him. 

He uncurls himself from his bed, mentally forcing himself not to dwell on the feelings of weakness and worthlessness. Over the years, he’s been trying really hard to improve his mental health, and that includes not lingering on negative thoughts. Music is the perfect therapy, anyway. It feels good to let it all out in beats and keys. 

Namjoon beats him to standing, naturally, and exits the room, probably making his way to the kitchen. With a sigh, the older male rises to a stand, already looking forward to the next time he can climb back into that bed. His morning routine passes without note, and it isn’t more than a few minutes later that he’s decent enough for a day off. In the kitchen, his roommate is there as expected, already much more awake than he is and _thank fuck_ , he made a fresh pot of coffee. The smell makes his mouth water. 

“Have I ever told you you’re the best?” he asks, brushing past him to get to the mug cabinet. 

The smile is evident in his tone as the taller male answers back cheekily, “Every time I make coffee, yes.” 

Yoongi swats at him with a tea towel, but he’s laughing softly under his breath. He nudges him out of the way because nobody gets between him and his first cup of coffee, not even Namjoon. Once the steaming hot liquid fills his enormous 24 ounce mug, he silently rejoices and takes a cautious first sip, careful of the scalding temperature. Joon likes to joke that he’s got a cat’s tongue, and while Yoongi typically acts like he hates the cat jokes, he secretly loves them… and well, they’re not wrong, either. 

“We can skip breakfast, this is all I need,” he quips, holding the cup with both hands, seeking the warmth greedily. He turns around and leans against the counter top, already feeling the effects of the caffeine settle in. The apartment is deceptively chilly despite the brightness leaking through the closed blinds. It’s still mid February, he supposes. 

“Yah, no… you need to eat, even if it’s just my crappy Jimmy Dean microwave specialty,” the younger chides, shaking his head fondly. 

“Crappy Jimmy Dean food it is,” he says flatly, teasing him just as fondly. “Tomorrow we order something, though.” Neither of them ever managed to get in the habit of cooking food, and neither of them have much experience with cooking but Yoongi is tempted to try. He really misses a lot of Korean food, especially in the morning, even though that’s bound to be a lot harder to make than he would like it to be. 

“Alright, alright,” Namjoon says with a wave of his hand as he unwraps two breakfast sandwiches, throwing them onto a plate and pressing the glowing green digital buttons on the microwave. 

Yoongi wanders off towards the thermostat, turning the heat on and sitting down right in front of it. It was fucking cold, okay, and he’s feeling too lazy to go back to his room and steal his blanket. 

Soft chuckling echoes back from the kitchen. "Just like a cat," he mutters and the older glares at him over the breakfast bar good naturedly, a smirk on his lips. He drinks his coffee in silence for a few moments, savouring the bold flavour of the roast they bought recently at the market. Eventually the timer goes off, and Namjoon promptly sits next to him, placing the plate between them. 

It’s moments like these where he feels truly content. Not every second between them needs to be full of chattering and noise, but peace and quiet. Waking up from the dream already feels a safe distance away, no longer ever present on his thoughts. The quiet rumble of the heater is a soothing sound, as is the breathing of his roommate on his right. If only things could always be this easy, he thinks maybe he could really overcome his depression. 

He enjoys the quiet for a bit longer before setting his ceramic mug down next to him and picks up the small sandwich, taking a bite and somewhat frowning. He’s so tired of them, but it’s better than not eating, even if he jokes about that. This is one of the things nobody tells you about when you say you don’t want to learn how to cook as a kid. Nobody tells you how sick of microwavable food you’ll get, or how much takeout costs. Not that they hurt for money, far from it, but knowing he could be using that for something better, like new music equipment or a brand new car, strengthens his desire to learn greatly. 

“We should teach ourselves how to cook,” he says after swallowing a bite of food. “Correction, _I_ should teach myself. I don’t need you cutting yourself all the time while I’m trying to concentrate and cook.” He laughs softly and picks up his coffee cup yet again. Already he’s nearly halfway done with it. He’s a caffeine addict through and through.

“Hey! I’m not _that_ bad.” 

Yoongi gives him a look, arching his brow. He doesn't even _need_ to elaborate on how many times his roommate has either burnt something or nearly gave them food poisoning from chicken that somehow managed to be both burnt and under cooked at the same time. 

“Alright, okay… you’re right,” Namjoon concedes, a sigh and an eye roll following his words. “I think the last time we used the oven was over a month ago. We’re textbook bachelors.” With a snort, he finishes off the last of his sandwich.

 _Ugh,_ he thinks instinctively at the word, the memories of last night resurfacing yet again in his thoughts, and how badly he wants things to be different. Bachelor doesn’t feel like the right word when he can imagine a life with Namjoon, no matter how confusingly messy his heart is at the moment. But how the fuck does he open that can of worms? That’s why he doesn’t. It’s easier to just go with the flow, even if that resorts him to pining and being more mopey than he already is on a daily basis. Right? Right.

“Yeah, we are,” he agrees despite his inner monologue. “It’s shit.” At least the last part is how he truly feels. He finishes his bland food and closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth emanating from the heater. Once his coffee is finished, the two of them stand and make their way to what should be the dining room. Instead of a table and chairs, though, rests a bunch of old music equipment, like some sort of makeshift studio. The two of them are fairly anti-social and rarely entertain people, so they decided to devote the space to a much more useful purpose. 

Music has always been a hobby of his, his love of it driving him forward in life. Maybe he could have tried making a career out of it, but his parents never approved of it as a hobby, and they likely wouldn’t have paid for his education, anyway. He’s content to love it silently, sharing it with only a small select few who are close to his heart. It's even more special that he found a similar love in Namjoon and Hoseok-- that he could actually share and bond over his passions with others in the first place. 

He picks up the old spiral notebook with a small, nostalgic smile on his lips. The past couple of days have all been full of nostalgia for many reasons, but this little book reaches all the way back to his youth and the struggles he faced when he lived in South Korea and losing his parents when he was a teen. Yoongi never fancied himself a writer, but this would be his autobiography if he ever published one. All of his pain, heartache, loss, and journey learning to love himself can be read in the words, can be felt in the beats of the songs. It’s deeply personal, a story untold. 

And it doesn’t take him long to fall back into his work mode, full of passion and drive. The months that have passed without working on anything don’t make him feel rusty. Namjoon and him have a great ability to work together, like they’re two cognitive parts of a machine, working in tandem with each other for the greater purpose. When he wants to change something, Namjoon knows what he wants and suggests it, and vice verse. They've always been like that, and it's caused them to have a small (but growing) playlist of songs they made themselves for themselves. 

It’s not surprising, given their confessions to each other last night, that they’ve chosen to work on Tear. The heartache they both must feel is raw with the reminders, and fresh on their minds. Yoongi knows he's not the only one who needs to work out some feelings and thoughts. Just like music is therapeutic to him, it is to Namjoon, too. Sometimes their emotions are easiest to convey on the page, and the bond it forges between them is made of steel. 

“You know, there’s something missing in this one,” Namjoon says, furrowing his brows as he plays back the beats from the start of the track. 

“Probably another verse, this one’s fairly short,” the blonde states, glancing over the lyrics, chewing on the end of a pencil eraser in concentration. 

“Yeah, that could be it. I like the way we’ve written it so far, it deserves another minute or two. Hmm.” He nods his head along with the music, tapping his fingers in time against the table top in front of him. 

Though the two of them have been out of the rap scene for years, they really haven’t lost their touch. Like Tear, they’re missing something, too. It’s like they have already reached their peak when they were three, and nothing has been the same since, but they didn’t lose the skill they once possessed. It's just... muted. Reserved. 

Adjusting the lines is as easy as breathing for him. He figures out a better way to say what he needs to, to fill that void of pain, and scribbles the new lyrics down on the page. He tests it out to the beats of the music, playing the melody on the piano he's so familiar with, he could play it in his sleep. He pours his heart, unfiltered and raw, into his rap. His tongue works like rapid fire, light but no less sharp. It feels so good to put meaning to his words, to have his fingers moving and creating again. The notes sound so beautiful to his ears, and it's so easy to get swept up in the music, like it owns his very soul. When he's done, his breathing is more akin to panting and the last note resonates with a note of finality. 

The impressed look on Namjoon’s face makes his heart skip a beat, and suddenly he realizes he shouldn’t look at him after such a passionate outburst on his part, because now all he can think about is how much he craves a deeper connection between them, how much they share in both grief and responsibility. 

“That was great, Yoongs,” he says, understanding in his eyes. “I like the line change you made. The new one sounds much better. We should re-record that verse with the changes today."

The praise warms his heart as if it’s a balm, trying to soothe the aches and pains he’s full of. The guilt follows shortly after, though. He really needs to figure out where these feelings for Namjoon are coming from, because if it really is because of Seok… he shouldn’t act on them. But if they’re real, he should hold onto him and never let go of him… take the risk despite the fear. It can’t be like the last time. 

He doesn’t realize a stray tear spills from his eye until Namjoon’s hand tentatively cups his cheek and his thumb gently wipes it away. “Hyung…” he says, and his breath smells faintly of spearmint toothpaste, bacon and coffee. Strangely enough, the smell causes him to lean in rather than away. It’s _real_ , Namjoon is _real,_ full of care, love, and warmth. But he’s so scared. He closes his eyes and leans into the calloused hand. Maybe it's easier to nurse a broken heart, hold onto the ghost of the past rather than risk it all happening again. Maybe it's easier to pretend Hoseok took everything he had left in him so he doesn't get hurt again, but damn him if it doesn't hurt holding himself back, too. 

He fucking hates crying, but he doesn’t think he can escape the moment this time like he did earlier in the morning. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers, his hand sliding down his neck and around to his back, pulling him into a hug he doesn’t know he needs until he’s wrapped up in it. The scent of Namjoon’s coconut shampoo comforts him like the heat of a fireplace in the dead of winter, like coming home after a long day. “What’s on your mind?” 

He has no idea how to answer that, because an honest answer would require saying so much more than he's ready to say right now. It would require him jumping off a metaphorical cliff into ice cold sea water, and maybe wreak havoc on the wonderful friendship they have now. With his mind stuck so heavily on the past at the moment, he can't find it in him to take the leap. His lip trembles slightly and he holds him tight in his arms.

“It’s a bad day,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “I just… I can't get over it. I can't believe he's really gone, and I don't know how to let myself move on from that, and I can't stop imagining how much pain he must have been...” It’s an almost truth, a half truth, but he’s not ready to bring up the extent of how chaotic his own heart is right now, so he hopes that he won’t hate him for not conveying the whole truth, because of course he can tell whenever he holds back. “All the blood he lost.. if he died that night, he must have been in agony and horribly alone. I feel like I failed him... It’s been so many years and yet it still feels like just yesterday because I can’t stop seeing it whenever I close my eyes for too long."

The soothing circles that are rubbed into his back makes him relax further in the younger’s hold, reminding him of how he held onto him the night of the party, sleepy and craving closeness, and not just with Hoseok. Perhaps his feelings for Namjoon aren’t so new, after all, but that's still not an easy thought to process either. _Just how long have I felt this way?_ he wonders somberly. 

“I know there’s nothing I can say to make those images go away,” he says tenderly, like a father soothing a child's nightmare in the middle of the night, and his tone carries all the fondness along with it. “But I know that we’ll find out what happened to him, and we’ll get closure. I know it. Once we have that, we will be able to move on. Your nightmares will eventually go away, along with the guilt. We didn't fail him that night, Yoongi. There's no way we knew what would happen to him. And we don't have to have all the answers or work out everything we feel right now. Just… for the moment, breathe in and out.” He guides him in breathing for a moment, and it genuinely helps the worst of it pass, but the guilt creeps its way back into the forefront of his thoughts. 

_Why is he such a fucking mess?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Yoongi :' ( I really did torture him a bit in this chapter. Oof. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Please leave a few words in a comment below if you enjoyed anything in particular, or if you have any theories. 
> 
> I seriously adore interacting with all of you, so feel free to check me out on twitter (@kaesm21) or tumblr (kaesm21) ESPECIALLY if you wanna lose your shit with me over AGUST D-2 PLEASE HIT ME UP BECAUSE I'M SCREAMING!


	3. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important: Please Read

Hello my dear readers,

I know I only have two chapters posted, but in light of recent events, I have decided to pause the writing this fic (and posting it as well). Writing Yoongi and Namjoon as a part of the American police force in any capacity makes me extremely uncomfortable. Granted, in my fic, they're detectives and the reason I wrote them as such is to solve Hoseok's case, **I do not want to be seen as 'pro-cop.'** My fictional world already doesn't focus heavily on their lives working as officers since my primary exposure to detective work and police officers is through reading crime novels or television, which is heavily romanticized and unrealistic in the sense of the characters always being more or less good people and chasing the truth. Those are the kinds of detectives I characterize Namjoon and Yoongi as, not the kinds of people who are okay with being brutal to civilians. That means my fic's version of police are what they are _**supposed**_ be in real life: for the protection of the people. However, right now I do not want my writing to be a reminder. Most readers find fics to escape, or to at least have some entertainment, to relax a bit. I would not want to promote this at such a sensitive time.

That being said, I was contemplating on whether or not I should write shorts that can accompany this story about their dynamics before Hoseok went missing, and perhaps shedding more light on his character since he's only been seen in flashbacks and memories. I wouldn't want to overwhelm the prime story with those and of course his character will be quite different from what Yoongi and Namjoon remember when he does return to the fic, so I've come to the conclusion that this is the perfect time to put my energy into the shorts. Most of those will be chalked full of fluff and exploring them as uni students, so I think it's more like the kind of fiction I want to be putting out into the world at this time. If you look at the top of the fic, it now says it's part of a _series_. If you would be interested in reading the shorts I'm planning to write, please subscribe to that!

Please do not think I am abandoning the story-- this one means a lot to me, and I have the plot very thoroughly flushed out and a good portion of it written already. I absolutely will return to it when the timing is right, because I am excited to share it with you. <3 

Please take care of yourselves and stay safe! These are dark times, and I wish you the best.

xxx KaeSM


	4. We Don't Know What Tomorrow Will Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon and Yoongi spend some more quality time together before collaborating on solving the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people reading this, welcome back to my fic! 
> 
> Just a few things I want to make clear before proceeding. I have decided to resume posting this fic regularly again! I was hoping to wait until the police brutality was more under control in the US (especially Portland where quite a bit of the fic takes place), but things are still dicey and I'm not so sure that'll change anytime soon, so I've decided to make a few edits to my story in hopes to avoid triggers on that specific topic.
> 
> **Black Lives Matter** is an extremely important cause to me. Police brutality and racism are absolutely not okay and never were. In my fic, the police do what they should have always been doing in real life: they protect and serve the people. All people. The deepest extent you will see of Namjoon and Yoongi acting as detectives in my story is them trying to solve Hoseok's disappearance. The majority of this fic (after the first four-ish chapters) will focus on the supernatural aspects & characters of the story rather than solving the mystery. And one final thing: COVID-19 never happened in this fic, either. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, thank you so much for being here! <3

Three: We Don’t Know What Tomorrow Will Be (Tomorrow, BTS)

Kim Namjoon  
Friday, February 21st, 2020  
Portland, OR

After Yoongi’s breakdown earlier in their ‘weekend,’ the rest of their days off pass without incident. Things fall back into their normal routine of music, coffee, and binge watching ridiculous K-dramas on Netflix. The only new(ish) addition to their routine is that Yoongi has opted to watch Korean cooking tutorial videos on Youtube in order to cook their dinners. The younger offers to help each time, but the older promptly kicks him out of the kitchen, much like he’s just done now. The first time he did make an attempt to help, his finger ended up bleeding, so he supposes it's fair that he keeps getting exiled now, though he's not fond of feeling a bit useless. At least he can acknowledge the kitchen is not where his talents lie. 

With an amused smile, he takes his usual seat on the breakfast bar, scrolling through the social media on his phone, absentmindedly liking some pictures and updates. It doesn’t take him more than a few minutes for him to get bored of it, though, and his gaze wanders back up to his roommate, who’s got a cute look of concentration on his face as he slices some onions. His nose is slightly scrunched up at the sharp smell, his lower lip tucked under his top row of teeth, and his eyes narrowed but wet with the body’s natural reaction to onions. If Namjoon could summon the nerve, he’d snap a picture of him, because it’s adorable. He doesn't have the nerve, though, so he continues to stare for another moment with the smile lingering on his features.

Nervous about staring too long, he goes back to his phone and decides to look up things to do in Seattle to prepare for their upcoming trip. Surprisingly there are more recreational things than he expects, which really shouldn’t be surprising. He quickly skims the occasional article, mulling over all of the possibilities in his head for sights to see and things to do in the city. Eventually he begins to see ads recommending hotels and even some suggesting flight & lodging bundles. His attention quickly is snatched up by checking out booking websites and such. After a few minutes of browsing, he sees a couple of deals for early March, close to his roommate’s birthday. 

His lips turn upwards in a wider smile as a new idea forms in his head. “Hyung,” he begins, excitement seeping into his tone. 

Yoongi raises a brow, pausing what he's doing and side eyeing him suspiciously. “Yes?” 

Namjoon laughs and shakes his head. “It’s nothing bad, don’t look at me like that!”

With a roll of his eyes and click of his tongue, he goes back to slicing the meat into strips. “Get on with it,” he says in his ‘pretend to not be interested but is really interested’ tone. 

“Let’s go to Seattle for your birthday instead,” he suggests. “We haven’t properly celebrated _your_ birthday in years. Let’s make this year better than any of the past ones.” He wants this to work out, but he also doesn’t want to pressure him any more than that. Birthdays are a touchy subject for him given how much he's lost. Most everyone he would want to celebrate with are no longer alive, and usually Yoongi just wants to sleep the day away to forget that. But Yoongi is the primary reason any of Namjoon's birthdays have been good ones despite the hardships they've faced, and he really wants to give back to him, just a little. He wants him to know he's not going anywhere. He wants to give him good birthdays to look back on, something good for the hard moments in the future.

So his heart skips a beat when Yoongi shows his adorable gummy smile, the word ‘sure’ on his lips. That's not what he expected to hear at all, so excitement washes over him like a heavy rainfall.

“Really?” he gasps, surprised how quickly and easily he agreed. 

The older laughs while he nods, and the sound never fails to bring a smile to Namjoon's lips. Seeing Yoongi in a good mood _always_ does that to him, especially after moments like the other morning. The feeling settling over him right now is like seeing the stars for the first time after a series of cloudy nights, or like the first breath of fresh air in the morning of a spring day.

Namjoon idly wonders when he’ll work up the nerve to confess and own up to all of his cheesy thoughts, but one thing is for certain-- it’s not today. 

After a short while when the japchae is successfully served up and steaming on a plate in front of him, he sets his phone down and thanks his roommate for the meal. The scent is mouthwatering, and he instinctively checks to see if he’s drooled a bit with the back of his hand, thankful that he hasn’t. “God, this smells delicious. I can’t believe how good you turned out to be at cooking.” He accepts the chopsticks handed to him and holds back a cheesy smile at just how flustered his older roommate is getting by the praise. His cheeks look warm, and not from the heat of the stove, either. Yoongi looks beautiful and cute and so _domestic_ like this that he wants to soak up the moment. 

“Shut up and eat,” he mumbles, though there’s no bite to his words. He looks away from Namjoon and takes a bite of the noodles as he walks over to sit in the barstool next to him. The darkening pink color on his cheeks gives him a little moment of confidence, and he slides his arms around the man next to him, leaning his cheek on his shoulder. 

“ _Hyung, thank you! You’re the best,_ ” he repeats, this time using only Korean. He knows it’s another weakness of his, because of how little they hear Korean living in the United States. 

_“Yah, Namjoon-ah, just eat already,”_ he murmurs back, clearly getting shy and it makes him smile widely one last time, giving him a big squeeze, before he pulls back to enjoy the food that his roommate spent time preparing. Seeing him like this warms his soul from the inside out, honestly.

_“Alright, alright.”_ With an amused shake of his head, he lets the other eat in peace while he does the same. Though Yoongi is new to the whole cooking thing, it really does taste delicious. He may not be a pro or anything, but he’s definitely more adept at it than Namjoon would be if he tried, and it’s painfully clear. It's also the best food he's had since he was a senior in high school, still living under the same roof as his mom.

Once they’ve both finished their meals, Namjoon opts to clean up afterwards and put the leftovers in the fridge. 

“Yoongs, do you feel like watching a movie?” he asks as he reaches for a can of peach flavored sparkling water. 

“Sure, anything in mind?” he asks, collapsing onto the comfy grey pull out couch with a content sigh. 

With a laugh, he walks over and popping the can open, the soft hissing sound filling the room as he sits down next to him. “Hmm, let’s watch…” he trails off as he thinks, taking a sip absentmindedly. “Oh! Singing in the rain.” Namjoon sort of has a thing for classics, and it doesn’t get much more classic than a musical, much less one as iconic as that.

“I’m down,” the oldest answers, bundling himself up in the blanket like a burrito. “I know how much you love it.” The small smile lights up his features as he settles next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. 

Things like this make life worth living, he thinks as he opens a streaming service to watch the movie. The warmth pressed against his side settles over his heart, making him feel truly relaxed. Absentmindedly, he thanks him and Yoongi's previous selves for purchasing a couch so comfortable that also doubles as a bed. It's the perfect addition to their occasional movie nights. He watches the movie with intent, however, some of his attention is drawn over to his adorable sleepy roommate. After his favourite scene passes on the screen, he notices that Yoongi has finally fully succumbed to sleep. With newfound confidence, he adjusts to wrap an arm around him, providing better support and also relief to his own arm, since this is a lot more comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that he finds himself being lulled to sleep, too. He drifts in and out, aware enough to catch the end of the movie, before he’s sleeping just as deeply as the man next to him. 

Namjoon tends to be a heavy sleeper when his mind isn’t preoccupied with too many thoughts. But tonight, he stirs immediately when he hears whimpering— maybe because it’s right next to his ears. Blinking sleepily, he looks over to his side, checking on Yoongi. The man’s silvery grey hair is slicked back with sweat, and the features of his face are scrunched, like he’s having a nightmare. 

_Oh,_ everything clicks into place just then. Gently, he reaches up to shake his roommate’s shoulder slightly. He doesn’t want to frighten him out of a nightmare, but he also doesn’t want him to suffer through it, either. 

Moments later, Yoongi’s eyes open, and they meet his, but the look in them is far away, like he’s still lost in his dreams. “Joon?” he asks, his breathing still shallow. 

“I’m right here,” he murmurs, giving him a gentle squeeze to emphasize his words. He doesn’t even have a moment to feel embarrassed at how they’re cuddled up to each other. Right now, the only thing on his mind is comforting him, however he possibly can. 

“I’m sorry,” he states, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh. It sort of breaks his heart hearing the apology. 

“No, you don’t have to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head firmly. “It’s not your fault and making sure you’re okay will always be my priority, no matter what time of day or night.” He uses his free hand to cup his cheek, not giving him the choice to hide his face. “Don’t feel guilty.” 

It takes a moment or two, the room absolutely quiet except for their breathing and heartbeats, but he can see as Yoongi processes and accepts his words, conceding with a small nod. “Okay,” he mumbles, and Namjoon releases his cheek, even though he knows that would have been the perfect moment to kiss him. Would that kind of comfort work for Yoongi? 

He chooses the much safer route. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, beginning to rub circles into his back, knowing that for sure does the trick. 

“Not really,” the man says, curling into his chest. He wonders if Yoongi can feel his heartbeat racing at their proximity. “But I should, huh?” 

“Only if you want to,” Namjoon answers, even though he thinks it would help him if he talks about the horrors he sees behind closed eyes. He rarely talks about it, but he’s really worried about the dreams Yoongi has. Sometimes they cause major panic attacks, and sometimes they’re quiet, like this. He also wonders how often he gets them, really, because he’s not 100% sure Yoongi tells him the truth about their frequency. The only thing he's aware of is that the frequency increases the closer it gets to May. 

“It was something new this time,” he states eventually, keeping his face well hidden pressed against his chest. “Normally they’re about the past or the people I've lost… my parents, Seok, my childhood friend. But this time, this time it was about me.” His voice is barely audible by the time he says the last word, like he’s still reeling in shock from it all. 

“What happened?” he asks softly, worry furrowing his brow. The nightmares almost never included Yoongi himself, that much Namjoon knows. But that unfortunately means he has no idea how to comfort his distressed roommate, so he just holds him close like their lives depended on it, keeping a grounding hand against the small of his roommate's back. 

“It… I…” he trails off uncertainly, struggling to find the words for whatever he needs to say. It sends a weird feeling through him, like he needs to brace himself for what’s coming next, like the build to a climax, the moment an audience is holding their breath, waiting for something big to happen. 

Only it doesn’t. 

“It’s just a dream,” he says instead, nuzzling him softly, almost apologetically, like he's trying to make up for the fact that he's evading the question. 

Namjoon feels a moment of heavy disappointment laying over him like a thick duvet. He’s never been the best at getting Yoongi to open up to him, for whatever reason. Most of his social skills came from Hoseok, but he typically wore his heart on his sleeve and didn’t hide things, or if he left something unsaid, it only took a simple question to prompt him to elaborate. But Yoongi, he’s different. He holds so much of himself back, not wanting to show vulnerability or his emotions until he’s ready. It’s not usually clear when that is, and he knows from experience how snappish he can be if he pushes too much. Right now doesn't feel like a good time to push, even though he's so worried and doesn't like feeling so helpless. 

Dejected, he answers, “Okay.” It’s better to leave it at that for now. He has no idea what time it is, but it’s probably far too late for them to be awake, let alone feeling like this. “If you change your mind in the morning, let me know,” he adds, patting his back gently. “Now let’s try to get some sleep.” 

He closes his eyes, and he can feel Yoongi smile against his chest. “Thank you, Joon-ah.” His voice is so tender as he says that, and if Namjoon could physically melt, he would. All negative feelings dissipate, and he continues cuddling him until they both drift off into a deeper, more comfortable sleep than before. 

-

One thing that’s vastly different from the living room compared to his bedroom is that it’s a lot… brighter. The risen sun has lit up all the solid white blinds of their living room and leaks through their openings. It also probably faces east, whereas the window in his room definitely faces west, which is the main reason he finds himself awake a bit earlier than his alarm. Both him and Yoongi are working the second shift tonight, meaning neither of them start until 2pm, and neither of them usually intend to be awake before 10am at the earliest. 

But naturally the sun has to wake him up before 8am. He sighs softly and carefully wiggles slightly out of Yoongi’s grasp. It warms his heart that the blonde chose to stay with him all night, and his last words before the two of them finally slept resurface in his thoughts. So maybe Yoongi didn’t want to talk to him about the nightmare, but he trusts him with his safety and comfort, and that’s enough for Namjoon, at least for right now. 

With a soft smile, he stands up from their sectional couch, covering the other man with the remainder of the blanket they somehow shared through the night. The air is chilly without Yoongi’s warmth, so he walks over to the thermostat and turns it up. For a moment, he stands there and enjoys the flow of air basking him in warmth. Once the moment passes, he meanders to the coffee pot, deciding to get on with his day rather than trying to restlessly catch more sleep. 

While he waits for it to brew, he grabs his laptop from his bedroom and sets it up on the breakfast bar. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t been able to get Hoseok off his mind for long, but he finds himself pulling up copies of important documents relevant to his case. Logically he knows that these feelings and thoughts shouldn’t be so constant, but they are. And he desperately wants to solve it. He wants closure, and maybe, just maybe, that will help him sort out his feelings for Yoongi. Or maybe he has them sorted, but doesn't feel like he can act on them until this is settled.

Clicking through his files, he opens the folder containing the pictures of the crash. Of all the mysterious things surrounding the case, Namjoon finds this one to be the most suspicious since nobody can figure out what he could have possibly hit. Looking at the dents, it has to be something made of metal, or another likely similar material, but the shape doesn’t look like your typical pole. Perhaps maybe a fire hydrant? But there aren’t any close to where the wreck happened. The closest appears to be about 10 feet ahead, off to the left of the road, not the right where the crash was. It doesn’t make sense. The trajectory of the shards of glass form a bizarre shape, too. Almost like something _was_ in the road at the time of the crash but wasn’t there when they arrived on scene. Whatever Hoseok crashed into had to be both tall enough and strong enough to shatter the windshield. Not very many things could even accomplish that kind of damage. 

He’s deep in thought when he hears the quiet but startling beep of the coffee pot, having finished brewing. With a shake of his head, he walks back over to grab a fresh cup. By now, preparing his coffee the way he likes is muscle memory, so his thoughts don’t leave the crash. 

If someone wanted to kidnap Hoseok, what would their intentions be with him? 

He shudders to think about it, but he knows all too well how the majority of his cases turn out, working as a Missing Persons Detective. Usually perverted desires drive someone to kidnapping. The idea that someone, likely a man, probably kidnapped him and raped him _physically hurts_ his soul, but it’s one of the only stories that makes a fraction of sense. A woman wouldn’t be able to overpower Hoseok easily, not with his moderately athletic build. Statistically they’re far less likely anyway. None of the potential suspects actually could have committed the crimes, either. So it had to be someone they hadn’t suspected or a stranger entirely. 

Namjoon wrecks his brain trying to recall anyone who might’ve been too obsessed with Hoseok, but can’t really think of anyone except maybe the couple Hoseok dated earlier in 2015, but he doesn’t think they had the opportunity, due to an alibi he doesn’t remember. Hoseok was single at the time of his disappearance, not even on any dating apps. He had tons of friends, but nobody seemed sketchy and the ones who were dubious all had alibis of some kind. 

He shakes his head, trying to steer himself down a different path, focusing back on the wreck itself rather than the who. What could create that shape in the car and cause the glass to spread like that? 

Taking a closer look, he zooms in on the image, resting his chin on his hand as he analyzes the shape. It’s similarly shaped to how a pole would look, except it’s thicker, approximately eight or nine inches wide, and it’s bumpy, like the object wasn’t straight. It had to have been at least five feet tall. He’s stared at these images more times than he’s bothered to count, and yet… this is the first time he’s tempted to take out a pencil and paper to draw what might be the object based off of the indents. 

Instead of ignoring the temptation, he walks back to his room and grabs a mechanical pencil and plain sheet from his desk and walks back out to the living room. He pauses a moment to glance over at his still sleeping roommate before getting back to the task. 

Following shapes and patterns is his thing, but drawing however, is not. His first attempt is… abstract art, more or less. It doesn’t look like anything that might clue him into what happened to Hoseok or what he hit, but he tries again using the other side of the sheet. This time, as he’s drawing, his mind conjures up an image of a strange rock, or perhaps maybe the edge of a road guard, though that makes no sense. Once he’s finished, though, both of those images don’t quite line up, and his brain automatically shoots down both ideas. There aren’t any road guars in the photo, and the crash definitely happened where his car was left. A rock wouldn’t make sense either, since it would have moved upon impact. Maybe a tree stump…? But he faces the same problem as earlier, there’s no way a tree stump would have been in the middle of a well paved road and then gone when they got to the scene. 

Frustrated, he lets out an annoyed sigh and cards his fingers through his light brown hair, scratching his scalp. Why can’t it just _click_ into place like all of the other cases he’s solved? Why doesn’t this one make sense? Nothing, _nothing_ about this case is logical. It makes him doubt himself sometimes. He keeps hoping that one day, he'll have an epiphany and discover the key to solving the case. Or perhaps it'll be Yoongi. It doesn't matter who so long as it's solved. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and startles slightly before he melts, knowing just who that hand belongs to. “Joon,” Yoongi says, his voice hoarse and grumbly from sleep. “What are you working on?” he asks, taking the seat next to him on the bar. He rubs his eyes for a moment before settling on the screen. A look of understanding crosses his features, and he nods slightly in acknowledgement. 

Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s feelings on the whole matter will probably always be raw, which is why he goes through phases of obsessing over the case nonstop and avoiding it with a ten foot pole. But the look in his eyes this morning is neither extremely raw or apathetic, it’s… serene, like he’s reserved to his sadness and acknowledges its presence but isn’t letting it consume him anymore. Namjoon wonders if that’s how he looks whenever someone or something reminds him of Seok… hell, reminds him of his life before it became consumed in darkness.

“I wanted to try drawing it out,” he says finally, gaze dropping down to his random sketch. “I’m sure the original detective on his case tried this, but… I’m not getting anything from it, either.” 

Yoongi studies the drawings, his brows furrowing slightly before his lips press together. “You know, as ridiculous as it sounds, I can see this being someone’s body from the side,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s probably just my brain’s way of telling me I need coffee because that makes about as much sense as a tree stump.” A look of shock must have crossed his face because Yoongi laughs as he stands up. “Don’t look so surprised, I heard you muttering to yourself while drawing. The mutterings didn’t make sense until I saw your drawings,” he says, lips curling into a smile for a moment before he turns to fix his coffee. 

Even though he’s sure he didn’t actually mutter anything, he finds himself laughing, too. It wouldn’t be the first time that he did something without fully being aware of it, anyway. After a few moments, the moment passes, and his mind goes right back into thinking, thinking, thinking. Even though all of the gears in his head are turning, it’s producing nothing helpful, just ridiculous ideas. 

“Maybe this is the wrong angle to work,” he grumbles before taking a long drink of his coffee. When he sets the mug back down, Yoongi is settling back into the seat beside him. 

“I don’t know, I’ve always thought it would be a good starting point,” he says thoughtfully. “I mean… it’s the first thing that happened out of the norm. When Hoseok left the party, things were still normal for him and us. But he hits something in the road? With his driving record, that doesn’t make any sense unless something unexpected came up. It’s after he hits the mystery object that everything changed.” He drinks from his coffee, but it’s almost like Namjoon can _hear_ his brain still mulling it over, or perhaps he just knows him so well at this point. 

“You’re right, but… how do we figure out what _this_ is?” he gestures to the drawing. “Especially without access to the car itself, we’re shit out of luck.” His frustration is beginning to get to him, and he wonders if he’s radiating it right now with the look the other gives him.

“We’re both good at what we do,” Yoongi states calmly, taking his free hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing it reassuringly. “We’ll find a way.” Funny how Namjoon’s said those same words to him dozens of times, and yet he had no idea how badly he needed to hear them himself. It really does reassure him, and he nods back at his roommate, squeezing his hand back for a moment before letting go. 

“We’ll find something to go off of,” he agrees, nodding slightly. “Maybe we could still focus on the car, but not on what he hit. I’ve always wondered why his wallet and keys were left in the driver’s seat of the car. It’s like someone was making a point of saying it isn’t a robbery…” he trails off, sipping from his nearly empty coffee cup, savouring the bitterness against his tongue. 

“You’re right about the person who took him,” Yoongi says gruffly. “What gets to me most is that the crime itself seems like a crime of opportunity, but the details feel like a crime of passion. The stabbing, the blood, the deliberate time it would have taken to leave behind his wallet and also take the keys out of the ignition. An opportunist would have taken the wallet, likely the money inside… at least the cash. Someone who’s passionate would be too focused on Hoseok to do something like that.” 

A chill goes down his spine, imagining someone Hoseok _knows_ doing something like that to him. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism, but Namjoon’s never seriously contemplated the perpetrator being someone he knows. Logically it never made sense to him, being in the same circle as Hoseok and knowing all the same people, but hearing Yoongi’s train of thought _does_ have logic to it, and he can’t deny it. Most crimes are committed by people the victims are familiar with. He wonders if maybe that’s part of the reason his roommate avoided all of their old friends from uni after the incident. He doesn’t trust them anymore. 

“I can see your point,” he says tightly. “Is there anyone you’ve suspected?” He leaves out the part ‘that we know,’ because it’s heavily implied in the way he spoke, and well… he’s sort of scared to know. Now if he sees them again, he’ll always wonder if that person is capable of doing something that fucked up to his best friend. 

“Well… I’ve suspected people before but they had airtight alibis. Do you remember when Hoseok dated that couple, Lana and Darian?” he asks, fiddling with the end of his oversized sleeve uneasily. Namjoon nods in response, wondering why he let go of his hand earlier and how weird it would be to grab it again. He stifles the urge, and tries to not show his resentment at hearing those names. He never did like those two, they were the kind of toxic polyamorous couple you heard stories about, and he _detested_ the way Hoseok was treated by them. “I remember how angry they were when he broke up with them, and that was only a couple months before the party. They were there, too, you know. But there’s footage of them at a grocery store near their apartment on the other side of the city around the time of Seok’s disappearance… and since it’s such a tight window of time, it’s clear that it couldn’t be them.” 

It comforts him, seeing how Yoongi reacts to those names with just as much distaste as he does. It reminds him that the toxicity he imagines for them is real, and not just out of his jealousy. He worried about that a lot, growing up… especially since Hoseok was so good with people, it was natural for him to be in a relationship fairly frequently. Most of his partners were all great people, but he had no idea what he was getting into with that couple. 

“Okay, so not them then… but I can see why you pegged those two as suspects. I remember when Lana came to our apartment screaming and throwing things at him… I’ve never been so tempted to punch anyone before, much less a girl half my size,” he says with a grimace, wishing that was one memory he could forget. That night was ugly, and at the time he was consumed with an unhealthy amount of rage. Hoseok was saintly in the way he calmly handled her, talked her down... and later after she left, both Yoongi and Namjoon, too. 

“I remember that all _too_ well. I was so relieved when he finally broke up with them,” he says. “That was by far his worst relationship. I never really suspected anyone else, but when it first happened it felt like everyone was capable, y’know?” he says quietly. "I didn't trust anyone but you."

“I can understand that,” he answers, nodding his head in agreement. “It felt like it was us against the world at first. Nobody else really understood what we were feeling... what we lost.” He holds back another sigh and instead lets his eyes go back to the screen. 

“Yeah,” the other says before going back to his coffee, downing the last of it already. “Part of me really wanted it to be them, just so I could have closure and someone to blame. But there’s a part of me that still hopes he’s alive, even right now.” 

“I hope so, too,” he says, his eyes pricking with tears he won’t allow to fall. Oftentimes he’s imagined being hugged by him again, what it would be like. If only those day dreams would come true. His very soul longs for it. 

“If he is, we’ll find him,” Yoongi says resolutely. “We’ll bring him home.”

  
_Home_. Home has always been with them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, loves. I hope you stay tuned for more chapters! 
> 
> Also, feel free to follow me on twitter or tumblr! (I'm kaesm21 on both platforms.)


	5. Wherever We Go In the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacation time: Yoongi drives himself & Namjoon up to Seattle, and they share a wonderful, relaxing night settling in. He makes a promise to himself to use this vacation time to explore his dynamic with his roommate... with quite a lot of success, considering Namjoon flirts back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks to everyone who's clicked onto this fic, and is continuing to read it! This is probably the last chapter that's full of fluff, so please hold onto the gratuitous, adorable interactions here for the incoming storm of angst.
> 
> Also some of the chapter titles are lyrics from songs (mostly BTS, occasionally others or artists they collaborated with.) I've updated the format so the songs the lyrics are from are in parenthesis. Pretty soon I'll have a YT playlist made!

Chapter Four: Wherever We Go In The World (Airplane Pt. 2, BTS)

Min Yoongi  
Thursday, March 5th, 2020  
Portland, OR

* * *

A sigh leaves his lips as he tosses his clothes haphazardly into the suitcase. He can hardly believe how quickly time passes sometimes. He woke up at 12:37pm and promptly laid in bed for what felt like minutes, which actually was three hours. If the two of them wanted to make it to Seattle at a decent time to skip the late check-in fees at their hotel, they needed to leave soon. Of course, Yoongi also isn’t the type to pack earlier than necessary, so… here he is, hurriedly throwing clothes into his case while Namjoon leans against the doorframe to his room with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Want some help?” he asks cheekily. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles, nearly too quiet for his roommate to hear. “If we’re going to celebrate my birthday, I get to pick when we leave,” he quips, loud enough to be heard this time while he throws-- and misses- a pair of socks to his suitcase.

“Sure, but you get to be the one to pay any late fees,” the taller taunts. 

In response, Yoongi rolls his eyes and throws a pair of jeans at him. “If you wanna help, you can fold what’s already in the case.” 

"You mean what little of it you threw _at_ it?" Namjoon laughs good naturedly at the expression he makes before taking a seat on his bed, picking up the miscellaneous clothing that didn’t make it into the bag. “You know, rolling your clothes is better for making them fit in a suitcase,” he says as he begins to do just that. 

“Are you a travel expert now?” he teases from next to his dresser. 

“On Seattle, yes,” his roommate answers with a chuckle while Yoongi grabs one of his favourite hoodies, one that’s well worn and fits him like it was made specifically for him. It’s comfortable like nothing else in the world. He vaguely remembers receiving it as a gift from Hoseok the first year they dormed together. It’s a miracle he remembers that, actually, given that he was drunk as fuck trying to _forget_ his birthday entirely when Hoseok finally found him to give it to him. 

Instead of throwing this one at Namjoon, he decides to put it on right away, basking in the warmth and fond memories associated with it for just a moment before moving on to grab a legit raincoat because he knows Seattle is notoriously well known for rain. He’ll be damned if he forgets something to protect himself from the cold wetness. A shiver runs down his back just thinking about it. 

“Alright, I think that’s enough,” he says after what feels like years of packing but in reality was just a few minutes. 

“Yeah, this is a good amount of clothing for a week,” he says, neatly placing the rolled up clothes inside the case. “You’ve got some space for souvenirs if you saw something you liked, too.” The taller of them zips the case up and rises to a standing, laying the case near his feet. “Are you all set?” 

“Yep,” Yoongi replies, extending his handle up. “Ready for the rainiest vacation ever.” 

“Don’t forget the scenic sights of vampires in their natural habitat,” the other jokes, the shit-eating grin returning to his features. Yoongi may not admit it out loud, but he loves that damned look far too much, and it’s _contagious_. He’s grinning like a maniac, too. 

“Yep. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll see them sparkle,” he adds as he leads the way out of his bedroom, making a mental note to clean it up when he gets home. 

“God, what a joke,” Namjoon laughs, shaking his head and closing the door behind him. “I still can’t believe what a sensation that series became.” 

“You and me both,” he agrees, sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting for his roommate to grab his things. “I bet if vampires really existed, they’d be bad ass and sexy, like in Underworld.” 

“Yeah, you’re right about that. I’m a confident gay man but Kate Beckinsale-- damn, she’s fine,” the other says suggestively before disappearing down the hall and into his bedroom. 

Yoongi silently agrees, waiting patiently as his clumsy roommate returns, dropping his keys. He really shouldn’t find it so cute, but he does, and his soft expression without a doubt shows it. Even though his heart is conflicted about many things, it’s not conflicted about that, so he decides to say it out loud. It’s time he stops holding back, and maybe things might be easier to figure out if he does it with Namjoon. “You’re the only person I know that makes clumsiness look cute,” he murmurs, growing more confident with each word that passes his lips. 

The sheepish grin and blush on Namjoon’s cheeks are _so_ worth it. “Ah, don’t just say things like that out of the blue. Who are you and where did my grumpy roommate go?” he asks back in a playful tone, raising a brow behind his old fashioned (but also cute) glasses. 

“How can I resist speaking the truth?” he quips, and _holy shit_ he’s actually flirting with Namjoon. His heartbeat pounds harder inside his chest, and he can hear the thudding in his ears. It’s been so long since he’s flirted with someone he actually really likes... he feels kind of like the awkward teenager he left back in Daegu. _Fuck you butterflies_ , he thinks one moment before he can overthink taking Namjoon’s hand in his. “As a cop, it’s kind of my job,” he adds, a bit nervously and he hopes it doesn’t show too much.

“Seriously, you have to bring our work into this?” the taller of them asks, a hearty chuckle following his words. “Well, if we’re going with that excuse, I guess it’s my turn to speak the truth. You’re pretty cute, too.” 

_Oh shit_ , nope, he’s so not prepared to hear that. “Shut up,” he mumbles, no bite in his words, clearly, as his own cheeks flush and he hides his face in the shoulder beside him. “You’re just saying it because I said it first.” It’s a lame excuse, but he’s nothing if not good at deflecting compliments. He’s never been good at accepting them, ever. That won’t change so easily, especially after a ridiculously long dating drought. 

“Oh, nope, I don’t ever lie about things like that,” Namjoon says firmly, but still with an air of playfulness. “I mean every word, _cutie_.” The emphasis on the last word has the widest possible smile on his lips, and he can’t hide this from him, especially not when he leans away with the intention of looking at him, an equally blissful look lighting his handsome features up. Yoongi really wants to kiss him, but he’s already stepped out of his comfort zone so much that the urge is far too overwhelming. He hides back behind his shoulder, then, instead of meeting his gaze. 

“Aish, stop complimenting me or we’re never going to get to Seattle,” he says, but his tone always gives him away. 

Thankfully, the angel that Namjoon is, he doesn’t continue to fluster him further and leads the way outside of their apartment. Yoongi takes the initiative to flick off the lights as he goes, and lets Namjoon lock the door behind them. His suitcase is clutched in his right hand, leaving his left free for the taking, if his roommate feels like grabbing it again. 

Silently, he promises to himself that this trip will be about him exploring his dynamic with Namjoon, and sorting out his heart. But he also vows to have fun and live a little. 

When his dorky, cute roommate does take his hand, he feels a sense of belonging he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. The walk to the car is unfortunately pretty short, but it gives him enough time to appreciate the way they feel together, and that’s enough for him. With a content hum, he squeezes the hand in his before letting it go, using it to dig his keys out of his pocket. Yoongi’s more comfortable driving longer distances than Namjoon is, so naturally they’re taking his car. 

The two of them toss their suitcases in the back seat before taking their own and buckling in. It’s not a terribly long drive north, thankfully. Yoongi would hate being in a car longer than five hours. At that point, the two of them would have bought a plane ticket instead. But a three hour drive is somewhat reasonable. 

The two of them spend the drive occasionally jamming to their old favourite songs, occasionally snacking, and Namjoon takes a hell of a lot of pictures— mostly of the scenery as it whizzes by, because he loves things like that, but also of Yoongi. The peacefulness of the drive lulls him into a state of peace he hasn’t felt in ages. He never would have thought road trips were his thing, but maybe when the destination isn’t too far away, they _are_ his thing. There’s just something about the open road, like it’s full of promise and hope. The world feels like it’s at his fingertips.

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel while drifting along a windy part of Interstate 5, enjoying the sunshine setting overhead. They still have maybe forty five minutes to Seattle, but they’ve made really good time so far, about ten minutes less than two hours deep into their journey. That’s likely due to the fact that Yoongi prefers driving above the speed limit, especially when the road is fairly empty. Traffic isn’t bad on a Thursday night, apparently. 

His thoughts must have jinxed them, though, because the last stretch feels like it takes an eternity. They’re certainly hitting heavy traffic as they approach Tacoma, and his peaceful mood dissipates rapidly with the stupidity of the drivers surrounding him. Namjoon takes the opportunity to laugh at his sour expression, breaking their longest streak ever without talking, probably ever. 

“I see my grumpy roommate has returned,” he comments, snapping a photo of him. The traffic is stopped enough for him to look over directly at the camera with a glare, causing his best friend to laugh even harder. “Cute,” he murmurs. 

Yoongi definitely has to look away in order to hold back the smile that wants to escape. The idiot drivers prove to be an effective distraction, and he glowers at them, resisting the urge to honk. He supposes all the rumors he’s heard of Seattle traffic are true-- this shit sucks. Nonetheless, they move forward at a crawling pace until finally, _finally_ , the GPS on his phone alerts him to take exit 167 into downtown Seattle. 

Silently, he gawks at the architecture of some of the buildings they drive by specifically the Opera and the Pacific Northwest Ballet buildings. It hits him that he really doesn’t know much about the ‘Emerald City.’ Like sure, he’s seen it in things like movies and maybe it’s mentioned now and then, but it’s more or less a blank slate to him in terms of _actual_ things to see and do, and that excites him. A change of pace is exactly what he needs right now, and for once, he’s getting exactly what he needs when he needs it. 

The smile on his lips is undeniably strong despite the ridiculously stupid one way roads he encounters, causing the GPS to reroute a time or two. Thankfully Namjoon doesn’t comment on it, too distracted by whatever he’s looking at outside his window. When they finally pull into the inn’s parking garage, he lets out a sigh of relief. “We’re here,” he says happily, turning the ignition off. 

“Whoa, this place looks cooler in person,” Namjoon says with a blinding smile on his lips. Like a child seeing Christmas presents under the tree in the morning, he immediately scrambles to get outside of the car and take pictures. 

It’s Yoongi’s turn to think he’s hella cute. Maybe that’s the theme of this trip, because in all honesty, his heart hasn’t fully settled since earlier and he can’t stop thinking about the way Namjoon said it, and the way it feels when they do something as small as holding hands. Without a word, he pulls his own phone out of its perch on the dash and takes a picture of Namjoon this time, wanting to capture this beautiful moment. 

It catches his roommate’s attention, and this time he poses for the picture, the dazzling smile aimed at him and his heart skips a beat just looking at him. The glasses, the button down shirt, the relaxed posture, it’s all so overwhelming in the best way. 

He clears his throat, trying to shake himself out of his momentary daze when suddenly Namjoon’s arm is around his shoulders, and his other hand is angled to take a selfie, together. His lips automatically turn upwards into his gummy smile, the one he knows his roommate is overly fond of, and he leans closer to him, resting his arm around the taller man’s waist. Being so close like this, he can smell the sandalwood shampoo and cedar scented aftershave Namjoon uses, and _shit, his heart needs to calm the fuck down._

Is it just him who feels like this, or does he feel it, too? He blinks, trying to get himself to focus for real this time, and lets go of Namjoon in order to grab his suitcase from the backseat. The butterflies in his stomach haven’t lessened at all despite his mind kicking into overdrive, wondering about how much of this tension is mutual. The rational part of his brain knows that it has to be, Namjoon doesn’t act like this around anyone unless he’s _really_ into them… but the anxious parts of his brain are justifying the behaviour with ridiculous negativity. 

At least he can recognise that they’re irrational. But it still feels surreal, being close with him like this. Part of him is terrified, maybe even looking for a reason to avoid getting into a relationship with him. 

But he’s been horribly lonely in that sense for so long, denying a romantic partner for far too long. It’s part of the reason he never pursued Hoseok— it’s been that long. He can’t keep these walls up anymore, or else he’ll never find the happiness his soul longs for. 

_Yoongi hyung, sometimes you need to take risks_ , he remembers his childhood friend, Jaemin, telling him ages ago. Jaemin is also someone Yoongi lost, and even though it hurts, he can remember him fondly and be at peace with his death. Part of him wonders if he’ll ever reach that point with Hoseok, or if he’ll always feel the gaping hole in his heart, bloody and raw from being torn apart. 

He’s going to take a risk today. Not for Jaemin, not for Hoseok, but for himself. He needs to stop hiding in a shell, pretending that isolation doesn’t hurt. 

So when he stands up straight with his suitcase in hand, he confidently walks to Namjoon’s side, and takes his hand, too. Just like earlier this afternoon, he feels grounded, safe, and like he belongs right there at his side. A brief stunned expression crosses the taller man’s handsome face before he’s adjusting their hands, interlocking their fingers together. This time, Yoongi smiles at the sensation of butterflies, welcoming the fluttering inside his chest. He's ready for them. 

They walk to the check-in like that, and he wonders if the pleasantly dressed Latina lady running the front desk thinks they’re a couple. If she does, it’s not obvious, she just smiles at them welcomingly, like they’re just any other guests. Seattle is supposedly hugely LGBT friendly, and so far, it seems to be true. Most of the west coast is largely friendly, but... every now and then he's reminded how much hatred there is out there for people like them. 

He mentally pushes the thought away and leans a little bit into Namjoon’s arm, suddenly feeling exhausted even though he slept ridiculously late. It’s already time for a nap, though he should be grateful for the chance to stretch his legs after the drive. 

“Hello, welcome to The Mediterranean Inn! Do you have a reservation?” the lady asks, a subtle accent to her words as she speaks. 

“Hello, yes, we do have a reservation for Namjoon Kim,” his roommate says smoothly, like it isn’t awkward to say his name like that. Yoongi still forgets every now and then, saying his family name first. Then again, for Namjoon, it really isn’t awkward, having lived in the US for the majority of his life, save for the occasional summer with his grandparents as a child. Sometimes Yoongi forgets that because his Korean is flawless when they do use it. At home they tend to seamlessly mesh between both languages as they see fit, almost like they have their own language. 

“Ah, yes! I was actually just about to call you,” the lady says, and Yoongi can tell that something happened with their reservation. “Initially you booked a double room, but due to an error, we’ve actually upgraded you to a deluxe king room, would that be suitable?” she asks politely, brushing a stray hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, moderately sheepish. Yoongi remembers the pain of working in any customer service capacity, so he pities her for a moment before he remembers that Namjoon and him aren’t the types to get pissed off about something like this. 

“That’s fine,” Yoongi says for him, because now it’s Namjoon’s turn to look a bit sheepish. It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before. But yeah, he knows that when it comes time to climb into bed, his heart’s going to be a frantic mess. He’ll deal with that later, though, right now, they need to check in. 

“Yes, that’s fine,” Namjoon echoes back, having recovered a bit. 

“Alright, your suite is 507, you have an excellent view of the Space Needle,” she says with a smile, handing them their keycards in an envelope. “Please enjoy your stay!” 

Namjoon releases Yoongi’s hand in order to grab the envelope, and instead of letting space in, he decides to slide his arm through his. The action feels so natural, but his heart beat is wild inside his chest. Maybe it’s because they’ve crossed an invisible line, and now they’re heading into the unknown. If that is the case, Yoongi knows that the two of them will come out of it okay. Whether that’s just a hunch or if it’s valid, he feels it to be true. 

“Thank you,” the taller says before they walk towards the elevator together. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Namjoon can hardly look at him. He’s sort of grateful, since his cheeks likely resemble a tomato, they’re so red.

For a momentary distraction, he decides to speak up. “So travel planner, what’s on our agenda for tonight?” he asks curiously. His stomach growls slightly as food crosses his mind. 

Namjoon laughs at the small sound and answers, “Well, definitely dinner. After that maybe we could check out the rooftop lounge they’ve got here. I’m excited to add pictures to my instagram.” 

The blonde’s lips curl into a smile as the elevator doors slide open, a quiet ding resonating in the small space. They step out of it and glance at the numbers on the plaques across from them. “Haven’t you been updating it already?” the older asks fondly before tugging him in the direction of their room number, towards the left. 

“I have, but just my story. Most of the pictures of the scenery are a little blurry, and not in the aesthetic way,” he says, shaking his head. “The ones I got of you are good, though.”

Oh _shit_ , his face might as well be boiling right now. Are his hands sweaty? Ugh, probably a little bit. At least they aren’t holding hands anymore. He hates how intensely shy he is-- he never used to be like this when it came to dating. But perhaps spending so much time with Namjoon has caused him to rub off a little too much on him. 

That, and almost the entire time they’ve known each other, they’ve been living together, too. That doesn’t help the whole dating process, really. It’s like they’ve skipped a couple of steps along the way, which could also be the reason he’s so nervous now when he never used to be. He finds their room a moment later and withdraws his arm from the other’s, holding out his hand expectantly for the envelope. When the envelope is in his hand, he lets go of his suitcase handle in order to open it, revealing two keycards. Once they’re free, he quickly scans them and opens the door. 

The room is nice and trendy, definitely on the higher end side. Namjoon has always had an expensive taste, and Yoongi is fully convinced it’s a side effect of knowing Hoseok so long. Nonetheless, he likes the room a lot. The first thing he does is sprawl himself across the left side of the bed, the one closest to the window, and sighs happily as he sinks into the plushy bedding. A whiff of something calming catches his attention, like lavender and vanilla. It must be from the sheets. 

Namjoon laughs softly, shaking his head fondly as he sits down next to him. “You always act like you never get enough sleep,” he says, snapping a photo of him based off the sound coming from his phone. 

“Sleep is heaven. Don’t be surprised if I spend the whole vacation right here,” he murmurs quietly, basking in the comfort of the bed. 

“Only you would enjoy being in the bed more than the city,” Namjoon laughs and pokes his side. “But thankfully I know ways to get you out of bed.” He begins tickling his side, his fingers light as a feather. Those words… fuck they’re so flirty and he feels so lightheaded right now. 

Yoongi squirms under his touch, trying to kick him away but laughter escapes his lips, and god, he knows how much Namjoon loves hearing it because he tries so hard to get reactions from him. “Stop, stop,” he laughs, his eyes tearing up slightly. His whole body feels fluttery and light, all of the tension before making him feel like he’s buzzing. 

“I won’t stop until you promise me you’ll get out of bed,” the taller taunts, a look on his face that ignites a different kind of tension in Yoongi, and _fuck_ , he wants so badly to pin Namjoon beneath _him_. 

But he’s nowhere near ready to process that, so he dramatically rolls his eyes, or tries to make it dramatic between chuckles, and sighs. “Fine, fine! Just stop,” he exclaims, meeting his roommate’s gaze with a playful glare. 

“I swear, if looks could kill…” Namjoon trails off before letting him go with an all-too-pleased expression on his face. “I think I might have died a painful death many times over by you.” 

“Damn straight,” Yoongi grumbles, trying to hide his gummy smile that’s begging to show itself. “Where should we eat tonight, then?” he asks. “Food is my priority if I can’t have sleep.” 

“You slept like,” the other pauses while he thinks about it for a moment, then continues, “Fourteen hours? Seriously oversleeping is just as bad as insomnia.” 

“Nope, not even close. Insomnia is the literal worst. I’d much rather be sleeping the day away anytime,” he retorts, shaking his head as he sits up. He ruffles his freshly dyed silvery blonde locks for a moment before brushing them out of his face. “But, food. Is there a trendy place you had in mind or should we pick something close by?” 

“Hmm… let’s get something we don’t normally eat. I hear they’ve got a lot of Asian food here. Maybe we can get sushi? Or pho! That sounds good, too,” Namjoon says thoughtfully, pursing his lips as he mulls over their options, weighing a pros and cons list of each, knowing him. Sometimes Yoongi likes to imagine seeing gears turning whenever his roommate wears that particular look. The brunette is certainly an intellectual, and it’s one of his most admirable traits. 

“I think pho would be nice,” Yoongi admits, smiling at the thought. It’s been ages since he’s had any, and with the light rain drizzling from above, it sounds like the perfect comfort food. 

“Sure, c’mon,” Namjoon beckons, waving his hand. 

Yoongi sits up and takes it without a second thought, laughing softly as he’s pulled to standing. The taller is slightly wobbly, and they nearly fall back onto the bed. For all of Namjoon’s height, he sure is clumsy. Why is that so endearing? He smiles wider as he steadies the two of them, sharing a brief look of fondness before they exit the room, Yoongi leading the way this time. 

Thanks to the power of Google, they find a quaint little Asian fusion restaurant a couple miles away. It’s very unassuming from the outside, just your standard strip mall type of building with one window, plastered with tons of pictures of various dishes they served, hiding a cosy atmosphere inside. Red walls and gold accents are everywhere, and lots of little trinkets from all kinds of different countries are displayed around the tables. Yoongi instantly adores this place, and takes note of its name: Mashita Kitchen. It’s warm and the delicious smells of marinated meats are making his mouth water. 

A kind Korean lady greets them with heavily accented English, and god, it’s so nice to switch seamlessly to using Korean. She beams as they greet her back, exchanging pleasantries before seating them at the table in the corner of the room, away from another couple on the other side. She gives them their menus and pours a tall glass of water for each of them. 

“I love this place already,” Yoongi says contentedly, opening up the menu, flipping through the pages. They offer nearly every dish he can think of, and he knows in that instant that he’ll come back here again, not a doubt in his mind about the taste. 

“Me too,” Namjoon says coolly, finding the page full of soup varieties. “I’m going to go for chicken pho, what about you, hyung?” he asks, still speaking in Korean. 

It makes Yoongi’s cheeks hurt with how wide he’s smiling. Vacation mode is kicking itself into high gear if he’s already this happy and content. “I’m in the mood for pork, I think,” he answers back. “And soju. It’s too bad we decided to drive here.” Both of them are fairly good at handling their alcohol, but since they’re both straight laced and officers, they don’t consider themselves above the law. Not only that, but traffic incidents are a relatively sensitive issue for them both personally, so neither of them have ever driven while intoxicated. 

“True, but hey, we can always find a convenience store to buy some and take it to our room,” the taller man suggests happily. “And since it was _me_ who drove us here tonight, you’re free to drink.” 

Yoongi scrunches his face up at the thought, to which the other laughs at him affectionately. “Blame it on my Korean youth, but drinking is a social thing to me. I don’t want to look like an idiot if you aren’t one, too.” He cracks a smile at that and not even a moment later, the waitress comes back and asks for their orders. 

The two of them give their order to the friendly server, and quickly pull up a search for the nearest grocery store, and luckily find one a short, two minute drive from their current location. They agree to swing by there once they finish their meal. 

“So what’s your impression of Seattle so far?” Namjoon asks Yoongi, sipping on his glass of water while they wait. 

“So far it’s not as rainy as I expected,” he answers his roommate, dragging a hand through his fluffy locks. “Other than that, it has shitty drivers and a lot of traffic.” A grin curls on his lips, knowing the words will tease his roommate slightly. His suspicions are confirmed when Namjoon nudges his foot under the table, causing him to laugh a bit. “Alright, alright. That’s not too different from Portland. I like the change of scenery. Everything’s really green here.” 

The smile crossing Namjoon’s handsome features is infectious, and he looks adorable sitting across from him. It makes Yoongi’s palms sweat slightly. Curse the dating drought for making him so... flustered. It’s Namjoon here, his best friend and partner. Not some stranger. “That’s more like it, hyung.” His chuckle sounds warm and golden to his ears. 

If he could melt, he would. He’s so whipped. So whipped. 

“I wonder if the mountains will come out while we’re here,” Namjoon comments idly. “I hope we do, but the forecast shows mostly clouds and rain.” 

A puzzled expression crosses his face as he processes his roommate’s words. “What a weird phrase. That’s weird in English, too, right?” he asks, shaking his head in amusement. 

Namjoon clearly takes pleasure in his momentary confusion, if his gleaming eyes and smirk have anything to say on the matter. The blonde rolls his eyes, but that damned smile still won’t leave his lips. “Yeah, it’s pretty specific to just this area. I haven’t heard anyone who doesn’t live here use that phrase. Not even Oregonians.” 

“Seattle is quirky,” Yoongi grumbles, shaking his head slightly. 

“Yup, and that’s why it’s a good vacation spot for us,” his roommate agrees, giving him a flirty wink he isn’t expecting. 

Damn. He’s used to Namjoon being deadly with sharp objects, and sometimes even air with his clumsiness, but him being flirty is a whole different level of danger he’s never encountered before. If Yoongi could combust, he just might do that. 

Thankfully before he has to formulate a coherent response, two steaming hot bowls of pho are set down on the table before him. Saved by the pho, apparently. He makes a comment about how delicious everything smells before the conversation is mostly dropped in favour of eating said delicious food. The silence isn’t awkward in the slightest. Both of them are obviously enjoying their meals, and that’s good enough for Yoongi. 

When they’re finished, they pay and head straight to the grocery store. Their main goal was getting soju, but they end up walking away with quite a bit more than that. They grab a six pack of hard cider and a bottle of chilled champagne. Yoongi surprisingly doesn’t feel anxious, mostly just tingly with excitement. It feels like the right time to be doing all of this; the sharing a bed, drinking, date-night like ambience. It’s overwhelming in the best way. It feels right. 

The drive to the hotel is even shorter than the drive from Mashita Kitchen to the store, which is a saving grace. The radio station Namjoon selected earlier in the day is playing a song about being in love with your best friend, and damn if it isn’t making him feel hot in his seat. He wonders what it would be like to just embrace that feeling and roll with it rather than holding himself back. As much as he wishes he could throw caution to the wind and pull Namjoon in close, kiss him like some passionate rom-com scene, he just can’t quite bring himself to do it. It’s a little ridiculous, considering he’s pretty sure he’s not alone in these feelings, but... it’s not quite the right time. Or is it? 

He’s relieved when they pull into the parking garage, and the song is cut off by Namjoon turning the key out of the ignition.

“I’m glad we’re back already,” he says as he swings the passenger door shut. “I’m tired.” The last bit is mostly out of habit and also more in regards to being tired of his own thoughts rather than physically tired, but Namjoon’s snort makes the comment entertaining. 

“We’ve barely done anything!” the taller man teases, smoothly linking his arm through his, causing his cheeks to darken slightly. How the hell did he manage such a smooth gesture, with all those noodlely limbs of his? God. “C’mon, grandpa, you can’t be too tired for the rooftop deck. It’s the best feature of the hotel.” 

“Yah!” Yoongi snaps playfully, spurred on by the silly insult. He scrunches his face and lightly hits his roommate on the shoulder with his free hand. “I’m nobody’s grandpa. Have some respect for your hyung.” 

“I love you, but damn you really do sound just like my grandpa, Yoongs,” he teases back, looking smug as if he hadn’t just nearly caused Yoongi to choke in surprise at that playful— and clearly casual— declaration of love. His face feels like it’s boiling, and he has to look away from the other to hide the expression. This vacation is going to give him a heart attack. 

After a moment of recovery, he finally retorts, “Oh, do I?” He raises a brow and meets his gaze. Have Namjoon’s eyes always looked so fond when they’re on him? 

“You do,” he says, and Yoongi’s pleased to see his cheeks aren’t the only ones that are flushed. At this angle, the blonde has a perfect view of his gorgeous side profile and smooth skin. Namjoon’s height has always been charming, but never before has it caused him to feel so... hot. His whole body is full of longing that’s both foreign and familiar. 

“Well just because I sound like him doesn’t make me a grandpa,” Yoongi says with a smirk as they step into the elevator together, the shopping bags rustling slightly. His long finger presses the ‘rooftop’ button as he continues, “If I truly was one, I would skip the awesome rooftop deck and take us straight to the fluffy, comfortable king-sized bed.” He’s fully aware of the double entendre in his words, and the effect it’s having on his flustered roommate, but he doesn’t regret it. Flirting with him ignites something inside him that he can’t quite explain. “What do you say to champagne and the Seattle skyline?”

Namjoon’s so fucking cute like this, rosy cheeks and smiling lips. Yoongi imagines gears turning in his brain as he tries to form a response, and is further endeared by him. “Cat got your tongue?” he asks, knowing it’ll tease him more but finding it a little too addicting to stop. 

“You must have read my mind,” the taller finally manages, unable to stop smiling. “I’d love to, hyung.” He emphasizes the last word, and damn, it makes himself smile wider, too. 

The doors slide open with a warm sounding ding, and Yoongi takes the lead, heading out onto the deck. Thankfully the rain chose a good time to stop its drizzling. The air is chilly, but being so flustered and close to Namjoon makes the temperature a welcomed one. He hums softly as he leads him to the edge of the deck, clearly the spot with the best views. There are tasteful string lights hung around the perimeter of the deck, and some tall outdoor heaters strategically placed around. The skyline itself is gorgeous, what with various other rooftops and gardens and skyscrapers surrounding them. The view of the sound is dazzling, and the setting is easily the most romantic Yoongi has ever found himself in. The night feels magical, like something out of a dream, and he genuinely hopes he’s not the only one feeling it. 

“Wow,” Namjoon breathes out in awe, his eyes taking in the beautiful sights with a warm glow lighting up his features, as if Yoongi just handed him the world. It makes him feel incredibly sentimental. He wants to hold him close, kiss him, give him everything and more. He wants that look to stay on his face, and he wants to be the cause of it. Though he settles for just squeezing his arm and curling a little closer to him, silently conveying his thoughts. 

They missed the sunset by a few hours, but Yoongi definitely wants to make sure they see it tomorrow. He’s not normally such a big sucker for scenery, but tonight he’s positively entranced. The Space Needle in the distance glows against the sky, like a beacon of hope and light for the city. A ferry horn honks in the distance as it goes from an island to the mainland. Lights twinkle in different buildings as people flick their lights on and off. 

“I can see why you booked this hotel,” Yoongi finally says, breaking their moment of quiet appreciation. “This is beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Namjoon replies warmly. “I’m really glad we can enjoy this view together.” He unlinks their arms, and opts to slide his hand to the small of Yoongi’s back, causing a shiver to run down his spine, entirely unrelated to the cold. He takes advantage of the excuse to lean closer to him, though, smiling in satisfaction as the hold on him grows tighter. “Come on, let’s have a seat,” he murmurs, lips closer to his ear than he anticipates. 

His heart is hammering as he nods, this time following Namjoon’s lead towards a comfortable looking padded bench overlooking the view from a slightly different angle, shielded from the rain from earlier by a large patio umbrella. He sets the bags down at a table to their right, the bags rustling softly in the wind. Nobody else is up here, and Yoongi finds himself grateful for the alone time. Here, he feels so far away from his worries and his troubles. It’s like the two of them have a private sanctuary away from the bustle of the city, and far away from their responsibilities and obligations. It feels magical, like they’re just two people attracted to one another. 

They take a seat, and god, it’s surprisingly hard for Yoongi to avoid sitting in Namjoon’s lap. He settles for stretching his legs out off to his other side, leaning toward Namjoon but still in friendly bounds, rather than coupley. He startles a bit when Namjoon’s laughter rings out in the night. 

“What is it?” Yoongi asks, looking over at him. 

“We don’t have any glasses,” the younger comments, pulling the bottle of champagne out of the bag.

“Ah, I see,” he says with a chuckle. Though it’s the last thing he wants to do, he offers, “I can go check our room, there are probably some in there we can use.” 

“No,” Namjoon pouts, wrapping his arms around him to prevent the blonde from standing up. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind sharing the bottle with you.” 

Oh god. Yoongi hasn’t felt like this... in so long. So very long. He laughs, shaking his head softly. “Aigoo, I’m normally classier than this on dates, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He knows just how obvious he’s being with all of this blatant flirting, but he wants to be obvious for once, especially since it earns such cute reactions from his roommate. 

“It doesn’t need to be classy if I have you,” the brunette finally manages, his cheeks flushing harder at the comment. 

He’s really reciprocating this. 

Yoongi is really flirting with Namjoon, and it’s being reciprocated. Heavily. 

The realization is mesmirizing and euphoric. Maybe he needs to be in better touch with his emotions because having this sink in now of all times is daunting. But he also wouldn’t have it any other way. He promised himself to take risks and chances, and to explore his dynamic with Namjoon. This vacation has barely begun, but it’s already so good. 

“Likewise,” he answers him at last, taking the bottle from his hand. Though Namjoon’s more muscley, Yoongi’s better with his hands. He pops off the cork with ease, and thankfully the bubbles don’t make a mess as they fizz. “Thank you, Joon-ah. This is already a contender for the best birthday celebration I’ve ever had.” 

The smile on the brunette’s lips is so full of life, beauty, and warmth. It’s almost as if he’s glowing with good vibes, and it has his heart pounding in fondness. “You’re welcome, Yoongi-ah. I’m happy I could do this for you,” Namjoon murmurs genuinely. It’s clear that he means every word. 

Yoongi’s swept with ridiculous urges tonight, but he’s decided to embrace every single one of them, and holds the fizzing bottle to Namjoon’s lips, offering to let him take a drink. It feels so intimate, so romantic, especially as the other man accepts it. After a decent amount, Yoongi tips the bottle away, letting him have a moment to swallow. They share a brief look full of so much emotion before Yoongi himself takes a drink from the bottle. Champagne has never tasted so sweet on his tongue. 

The moment’s intensity cools off slightly as they begin to take turns passing each other the bottle, and point out various things to see across the city. They each sound like a broken record, commenting on how beautiful the sights are, though the most beautiful thing in view is sitting right next to him. He doesn’t voice that yet, though. Tonight has already been full of venturing outside of his comfort zone and testing the waters that he knows there is no rush to act just yet. 

When it comes time to call it a night and turn in, it feels right that they share a bed. Though they don’t cuddle too much, being in such close proximity is comforting, safe, and warm. When he sleeps, he sleeps dreamlessly for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voila! There you have it. I hope you liked this cute chapter! Please leave a comment, I love hearing my readers' thoughts and interacting with all of you! 
> 
> xxxKaeSM


	6. When It Rains, It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting coffee causes an unstoppable chain of events that nobody is prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo my wonderful readers! I hope you've been enjoying this fic so far. Things are about to heat up, starting with this chapter!

Chapter Five: When It Rains, It Pours (Forever Rain, RM)

Kim Namjoon  
Friday, March 6th, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

Namjoon isn’t sure what waking up next to Yoongi would be like. Sure, it’s happened a time or two, but he figures most of those aren’t regular enough to give him an accurate idea. Maybe it would be nightmares like it has in the past or maybe the other would grumble something about letting him sleep the day away, but this is certain: his roommate curling into his side, arms wrapped around his torso, sleeping soundly and _entirely_ unaware of Namjoon is _un_ expected. Yoongi is a cuddler with the right people, that much wasn’t ever a secret to him, and yet he’s still taken aback. It just feels so… natural and overwhelming at the same time. Maybe his heart is growing weak from denying what it wants, because he has no desire, no inclination to move even though he’s excited for their plans for the day. 

Those can wait, though. This moment is precious to him, and he savours how it feels. Their bodies pressed together are warm, but they aren’t too hot, and Yoongi is quite smaller than him. Even though he knows the silver haired man is a force to be reckoned with in a confrontation or a sparring match, he looks so soft and gentle like this. It’s a rare and beautiful sight, seeing the parts Yoongi hides away from the rest of the world. It feels like he’s an archaeologist who just found long awaited treasure. He’s being trusted with something too valuable for his clumsy hands, but he can’t regret it, either. 

It’s so warm and soothing, being together like this. His thoughts begin to swim as he remembers how physically affectionate they’ve been lately, and it makes him feel giddy inside. Yoongi seems to be in better spirits lately, too, which makes everything so much better. There are very few things he loves in this world that could top seeing Yoongi happy. 

His own heart feels like it’s healing, too. It doesn’t feel wrong for him to have feelings for Yoongi. Actually, ever since Hoseok’s birthday, he feels like it makes so much sense. Who has he spent nearly all of his time with the past few years? Yoongi. Who makes him smile the most? Yoongi. Does he ever want to move on his own? _Hell no_. It makes sense, so much sense, that he wonders why he let himself feel guilty. It’s natural for him to move on, right? 

But what if Hoseok isn’t gone, and they do find him eventually? It may not be likely, but… what _if?_ Would the time and distance make it so that Namjoon no longer likes the present him, just the ghost of who he was? Or would things fall back to how it once was- Namjoon pining after both of them? Would Yoongi even be okay with that? 

Suddenly he feels the need to move, because yeah, he remembers why he felt guilty now. Even if Hoseok would probably never begrudge him for it, what if Yoongi does? While Joon has sort of hinted at the idea of himself being polyamorous, his roommate has never expressed thoughts like that at all. He doesn’t know if Seok ever talked to him in depth about it, either, or if Yoongi confessed curiosity to him. For that matter, Namjoon himself hasn't actually explicitly stated that, so Yoongi may not have picked up on those hints. 

Okay, so he officially hates how easily lost he gets in his thoughts, because this morning shouldn’t start off like this. He’s spiraling into a ridiculous train of thought and getting way too ahead of himself. What ifs will always go around in his head, but if he wastes his time and energy on them, he’ll miss out on a lot. His morning should begin with him being relaxed and excited at the prospect of exploring a new city with someone special, someone dear to him. 

Someone who’s currently making really cute noises in his sleep, and fuck, it’s adorable. He reaches up to gently stroke his hair with the hand that isn’t pinned beneath him, and if he wasn’t scared of waking him, he’d probably coo at him. Instead, he settles on a probably dopey expression. His fingers card through his hair that somehow retains more softness than he’d expect, given how many times it’s been dyed and bleached. Yoongi stirs just slightly, adjusting his arm so it’s on his chest, next to his face. 

Is it possible for a human being to melt? Because Namjoon’s pretty sure that’s what’s happening to him. He feels a rush of fondness washing over him, and he thinks that this moment is one of the most beautiful moments in his life. Many people would probably think of some typical ‘big’ moments, but Namjoon believes life is so much more than those. It’s the little moments that make life worth living, so he’ll treasure this morning with his whole heart. 

Some time passes as he drinks in the silence (aside from the peaceful sound of drizzling rain) and serenity before he begins getting the urge to get up and stretch his limbs, start on the day. He doesn’t have the heart to wake him, though, so he wiggles out of his hold, carefully extracting himself. The smaller man stirs when his head makes contact with the pillow, but he doesn’t fully wake. 

Looking around, he sees the time on the clock, just past 10am. He’ll never not be amazed by how long Yoongi is capable of sleeping, seriously. He smirks in silent laughter before going about his morning routine, taking a quick shower. When he exits the bathroom, fresh faced and ready for the day, his roommate is _still_ asleep. Since his stomach is growling and he is absolutely ready for some coffee, he decides to scribble a note on the pad on the nightstand, explaining why he’s not in bed anymore and that he’ll be back soon with coffee and breakfast.

He unplugs his phone from the charger and frowns as he realizes he doesn’t have a clue where his wallet is, which has the room key inside it. Ugh, of course he’d misplace something important and not realize it until he’s on his way out. At least he didn’t completely forget. Yoongi hates being woken up by a phone call. Shaking his head, he clears the thoughts from his mind and attempts to retrace his steps. What jeans did he wear yesterday? He rifles through his suitcase for a moment before finding his wallet tucked against the edge of the lining. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he slips it into his pocket and exits the room. 

He takes a moment to appreciate the design of the hotel itself as he walks through it before his attention inevitably falls to his phone, in favour of searching for unique cafes to check out nearby. He locks his phone for a moment before leaving the cover of the hotel entryway to unfold his umbrella. He pulls it out again, figuring out the best way to carry both. Most of the coffee shops and cafes in the area look pretty typical, and it isn’t that he has anything against it, they just don’t stand out to him in comparison. One catches his attention shortly after that thought crosses his mind, just by its name alone: Koku Café.

His curiosity is enough to justify a visit, and it also happens to be close by, so once he exists the lobby, he turns the GPS walking navigation on and lets it guide him. Unfortunately it guides him _up_ a giant ass hill, but from what he remembers driving through the city, hills are commonplace here in Seattle. 

Namjoon snaps a few pictures on his way to the café, trying to capture the aesthetics of the city streets. As he approaches the top of the hill, a gorgeous water fountain catches his eye. The sound and sight of the water flowing causes his lips to curl upwards in a smile. The camera on his phone clicks as he takes a few more pictures, getting some that got the edge of the café. He's a little bit in love with the rainy aesthetically pleasing pictures he's taken thus far. He closes up his umbrella as he approaches the door, giving it a solid shake before pushing the door open. 

A chime jingles above his head as he pushes the door open with his free hand. The aromas of freshly ground coffee beans and steamed rice greet him, and for a moment, he just closes his eyes and basks in the moment. It’s so nice to be on vacation, doing something fresh and exciting. So far, the week has been off to a wonderful, magical start. He’s eager to see where it goes, so he refocuses on the café. The light washed wooden tables with black frames give the place a moderately industrial vibe, and he finds that he really likes it. He moves to stand in line, contemplating updating his instagram story when movement catches his attention from up ahead. 

It takes only seconds for Namjoon’s blood to run cold and his eyes to widen in shock at what he sees-- more like _who_ he sees standing in front of the register. It feels as if someone’s dumped him with a bucket of ice water, like his brain is frozen in shock and his body is shivering. It's like his brain is disconnected from his body for a moment while he grapples to come to terms with what his eyes are showing him. It takes another moment for him to get his tongue to cooperate. The two parts of him are out of sync, like his mind is slower than his tongue. 

“Hoseok?” he exclaims, probably too loudly. Oh god. What is happening? This can’t be real. _This can’t be real._ That can’t possibly be his long lost best friend chatting away with people, taking their orders in a unique café in the heart of Queen Anne, Seattle. But he can’t look away, he can’t make sense of this. The man in front of him looks like he walked right out of the pictures in his cell phone. He swallows the lump forming in his throat, and asks again, “Hoseok-ah?” 

Namjoon’s brow furrows as not a single sign of recognition or acknowledgement crosses his expression, as if he either hadn’t heard him (not likely) or it didn’t occur to him that it was _him_ he was referring to. That doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. What the actual fuck. 

Trying to take steps forward, it feels like he’s trudging through mud. He’s slow, and sluggish, and completely trapped in this fog of shock and confusion. His eyes linger on the all-too-familiar face, and he begins to analyze him with a sharp eye, taking in the differences from his memory and the person standing before him now. The last time Namjoon saw Hoseok, his hair was bright red and too short to brush the tops of his eyebrows. The person taking orders has longer hair, long enough to be tucked behind his ears, and it's the colour of caramel with golden highlights peaking through. He's wearing entirely black, and perhaps that's a uniform, though if it isn't, Hoseok always wore a striking amount of colour. Also this man is thin, almost delicate looking. The Hoseok he knows was always lean, certainly more muscular than the look-a-like in front of him. Not only that, but he’s got silver stud earrings in his ears and a tattoo of something-- he can’t quite make it out from this distance without his glasses- on his wrist. Piercings and tattoos... no way can this be Hoseok. He remembers how terrified he was (as an adult) getting a flu shot because of his fear of needles. He could never manage to sit through getting each ear pierced, let alone the time it takes to tattoo skin. 

What is the likelihood of this happening? He nearly bumps into the person waiting in front of him, who sends him a dirty look before edging forward. He’s a little too out of it to apologize, so he stays quiet. He doesn’t trust his tongue, or his thought process right now anyway. 

As he advances in the queue, his thoughts are bouncing around like a pinball machine, and he begins to have doubts. He begins to find every single possible reason this isn’t who he thinks it is. He has to mentally prepare himself to speak to this person. When it’s his turn, his palms are clammy. It’s like his ears are stuffed with cotton and his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. He doesn’t hear it when this Hoseok look-a-like talks to him. His name tag reads “Hoya,” and the tattoo adorning his inner wrist is of an airplane, and that’s all he sees for a moment. Is this a panic attack he’s having? He’s too unaware of himself right now, like he’s in a trance of some kind. His breathing feels fast, though.

“--Pardon? Are you alright, mate?” Hoya asks loudly, alarmed and in a jarringly British accent, yet... still no signs of recognition on his eerily familiar face. Probably because he isn’t actually Hoseok, and just looks like him. His voice also sounds deeper, but it’s been so long since he’s heard his best friend speak and can’t say for certain this person sounds like him or not. 

He has to get ahold of himself. It feels like needles are prickling his heart as he formulates a response, albeit not very eloquently. “Oh, uh… yeah, sorry…” he trails off before glancing back up at the menu. He doesn’t want to take up too much time, especially since he knows there are a couple of people behind him. “I... I’ll have a sixteen ounce... AmaLatte and hmm… a sixteen ounce Americano, er… no cream.” 

“Coming right up,” the man- Hoya, Namjoon reminds himself- says. “Would you like anything else?” His voice is friendly, at the very least, and he doesn’t seem annoyed at his weird behaviour, which is a relief for sure. 

“Nope!” he practically yelps, internally cringing at his awkwardness. So what if this guy looks so much like Hoseok, it doesn’t excuse him acting like this. Hoya has no idea who Hoseok is, and it’s not his fault he looks like him or that Namjoon is probably the kind of customer he’ll make fun of and laugh at with his coworkers behind closed doors. 

Even as he tries to rationalize his thoughts, he still can’t shake the feeling that he _is_ Hoseok, though there is nothing logical about it. As a matter of fact, all of the logic and facts heavily imply that it isn’t. With a minor shake of his head, attempting to shake the thought from his brain, he pulls out his card. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re quite pale,” he asks, neatly trimmed eyebrows creasing in worry. “You’re not going to pass out on me, right? Shall I add a cup of water?” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” he replies back, visibly shaking his head, probably too much to be natural. “You just… remind me of someone, that’s all.” Hopefully the confession will be enough to cause this whole thing to be dropped. He needs it to be dropped. He needs to get out of there. He needs to _breathe_ , which he doesn't feel like he can do here. Not with someone who looks like the person he misses most in the world looking like that.... strangely concerned but foreign, different. 

“I have one of those faces, I reckon,” Hoya answers, a small and awkward smile on his lips… that are also irritatingly heart-shaped. That’s not how Hoseok smiles, though. And this smile doesn’t quite reach this guy’s eyes dark, nearly black eyes. “Shall I make it for takeaway?” he asks. 

“Uh… yes.” It takes his brain a moment to connect the dots. He doesn’t think he’s ever actually heard a British person talk unless it’s on a screen of some kind, let alone have someone talking _to him_ with that accent. 

“What’s your name?” he asks, picking up two sixteen ounce cups and marking them with the order, sharpie in hand. 

“Uh… Namjoon,” the taller answers back sheepishly, bringing a hand to his neck. He's not sure if his neck is sweaty, too, of if it's just his hands, but he feels gross. 

“Alright, your bevys will be out shortly,” Hoya says with a less awkward smile, setting the cups down on the espresso bar. He reads the total and the prompt for contactless pay shows up on screen. Namjoon tips heavily, hoping that would make up for his blunder. “Thank you for visiting Koku!” 

The short wait for the drinks feels like the longest five minutes of his life. He can't stop fidgeting and moving, unsure what to do with himself. He actively tries to stop staring at him, but it’s like his eyes have a will of their own and continuously drift back his way. Is Namjoon going crazy? At least he can breathe better, with the shock lowering in intensity to a more manageable state, and standing further back from the barista. 

To appease his own mind, he pulls out his phone yet again and brings up a picture of Hoseok before he went missing. Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, however he _thinks_ he’s being fairly subtle as he evaluates a side-by-side comparison. It helps that Hoya is constantly moving, grabbing pastries or taking orders, far too busy to notice his staring. Their faces are too similar for it to be a coincidence. They have the same jawline, the unique philtrum, the shape and slant of their eyes. Their noses are identical. The biggest differences are the piercings in his ears, the tattoo, and the strikingly slim build Hoya has. Perhaps his complexion is a little more pale, and his eyes a bit dark, yet... those differences are all far too small, and could have changed in the time that passed. Standing here in the most random of circumstances, the impossible is happening. 

Everything inside him is screaming that _that is Hoseok._ If it is, what are the chances of that? Why would he have a British accent? Why is he at an off the wall café in Seattle? Is he in danger? Does he have amnesia? Is Hoya just coincidentally someone who looks exactly like his best friend? 

His head hurts thinking all of this over. When his drinks are prepped and sitting at the end of the bar, he reads the name on the cups. It’s his, but misspelt as “Namjun.” A weird feeling settles over his heart… the handwriting doesn’t look like his best friend’s. As a matter of fact, it looks nicer, sharper, clearer than Hoseok’s ever did. Almost… fancy. 

He silently grabs a sleeve for each of the cups and exits the café as fast as humanly possible, not looking back at the possible stranger at all. He doesn't even bother with his umbrella this time, not caring that the cold, wet drops of the rain land on his skin. 

So much for his good mood. 

The walk back goes by too quickly, especially in comparison to the agonizingly long five minute wait for the coffee in the first place. His feet are desperately taking him back to the one person who can possibly make him feel better, make him see sense. It isn’t until he arrives at the door to his room that hesitation takes over him and his hand hovers over the keycard in his pocket. What the hell does he tell Yoongi? Does he pretend nothing happened? Does he tell him everything? 

Ah, who’s he kidding. He can’t hide anything from him. 

With a sigh, he opens the door, stepping inside and peering over to the bed. Yoongi still lays there, but his eyes open a bit at the sound of him entering the room. He sets the drinks down in favour of shedding his dripping wet coat. 

“G'morning,” his roommate mumbles, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “Thanks for getting coffee.”

“Mhm,” the taller answers back, sitting down next to his roommate. A sense of dread washes over his whole body, and he has no idea how to put words to what just happened. Yoongi absolutely deserves to know why he’s so still and rigid, so he doesn’t think the worst and assume he did something wrong, or that last night wasn’t the most perfect night he could have asked for. But words don’t come out, and he opens and closes his mouth as he tries to decide what words make the most sense. 

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Yoongi murmurs, sitting up to rest a hand on his shoulder and meet his gaze. Those sleepy brown eyes are full of cautious worry. It’s too bad he can’t soothe those worries this time. If anything, he’s probably adding to it by what he has to say. How the fuck does he say what happened? He doesn’t even understand it. 

Eventually, he forces words out. “I might as well have,” he finally answers after a heavy moment. He breaks their eye contact and presses the Americano into his free hand. In all the tenseness from earlier, he’d forgotten to get food, too. But perhaps that’s for the better, in retrospect, because then they have an excuse to go back and Yoongi can see Hoya for himself. If he wants to, that is. Namjoon doesn't know if he wants to go back there or never set foot there ever again. 

“What did you see?” the older asks, dropping his gaze to the coffee in his hand. 

“I saw… someone who looks exactly like Hoseok,” he whispers, voice barely audible. The words aren’t easy to say in the slightest. And while he isn’t looking at his best friend’s face at the moment, he knows exactly how distraught and shocked he must look. He knows it must be the same expression that crossed his face the night that officers knocked on there door to inform them of Hoseok’s disappearance. 

“Namjoon… are you sure?” Yoongi asks, his voice gentle as his fingers pry the larger hand open from his clenched fist. He lets his roommate take his hand, his mind deep in conflicting thoughts. Yoongi must be really worried if he’d rather hold his hand than drink his coffee.

“I’m certain he looks like him… whether it _is_ him, I’m not sure,” he answers honestly. “He had no reaction when I called him Hoseok, and he’s got a British accent. His voice is deeper, and he looks thinner than I’ve ever seen him, with a tattoo and pierced ears. His name is Hoya,” he finishes, finally summoning the inner courage to look Yoongi in the eyes. 

They’re wet with unshed tears, but not full of anguish like he’d been expecting. “It doesn’t sound like Seok, but… a lot can change in five years. What did you see him doing?” Maybe Namjoon’s projecting his own feelings onto Yoongi, because he feels like he’s ready to fall apart. Hoya probably isn’t Hoseok, but it makes the ache of his absence triple in strength. He’s so desperate to find him that seeing a stranger who looks like him is wreaking havoc on his heart. 

What would he do if Hoseok could be here right now? 

Hug him. Cry. Never let him go. Cry some more. 

“Joon?” the blonde’s voice cuts in. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs back. “He was working at the café I bought these drinks from. We could… go back and get food. Their food menu looked good online. I was distracted so I forgot to order us food.” He’s also still too out of it to realize he just said food three times in the span of a few sentences. 

“That sounds like a plan,” Yoongi says calmly, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll check it out together. You’re not alone.” 

Namjoon’s moods usually flow from one to the next very gradually, like a small stream navigating a forest. But right now, it’s like he plunged down a waterfall into lowlands unexpectedly. Mood drops don’t happen to him like this. Having Yoongi by his side, though, he feels better, safer. He sets his drink down on the nightstand and hugs him, needing the assurance that only a hug from someone he trusts can bring. The smaller man squeezes him tight, full of warmth. It’s in these arms that he feels protected, and strong. He feels strong enough to face this crazy situation, as long as he has Yoongi. The same man who saved him the last time they went through a life-changing moment. They hug for only a few moments, but it helps calm him down enough to be functional again. 

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes shortly after pulling back. “I didn’t know seeing someone who looks like him would rattle me so much.” 

“It’s okay. I think I probably would have had a panic attack if it’d been me. You’re handling this great, Joonie,” he says softly, cupping his cheek comfortingly. For a moment, Namjoon wonders what his lips would taste like if they met, and instantly feels guilty for thinking like that right now of all times. It surfaces in his thoughts that he might’ve actually had a panic attack, too, though he’s never experienced one of those himself before. 

“There’s no good way to handle this,” he responds before pulling back. “But I’m glad we have each other.” He offers him a small, sheepish smile before grabbing his latté, taking a sip. The taste is delicious, and warm on his tongue. 

“You’re right,” Yoongi answers before picking up his own coffee and taking a generous drink of it. “You know… after you left, I had a dream about this. Or at least, I think I did. This dream wasn’t nearly as clear or vivid as most of my others… I dreamed of someone I instinctively knew was Seok in a forest, by a river. I didn’t see his face or anything, but I could tell he was really depressed and I wanted to check on him… but I was on the other side of the river and couldn’t get to him before he ran away. I never clearly saw his face or features, but I knew it had to be him somehow. I’m not sure what he was running from, but I think it was me.” He looks pained and puzzled. Normally, Namjoon can find words to comfort him, but right now, the dream just feels like a very bad omen for what they’re about to face. 

“That’s awful… I hope that he won’t run from us if we find him.” The idea burns his heart, like the burn of bleach settling into his scalp. Slow, subtle, but he’s processing it. 

“We will find him… someday. And maybe it’s soon,” Yoongi says quietly. Though he’s been more calm than Namjoon expects, he can sense the anxiety and nerves coming off of him, too. The only thing that unsettles him is that it feels like Yoongi always knows what’s about to happen, like he’s aware of it but isn’t prepared for it. It’s strange to think about if he lets himself fall down that rabbit hole. 

“Maybe,” Namjoon acquiesces, shrugging his shoulders casually. “We should probably go if we’re going to catch him while he’s still working.” 

Yoongi nods and adjusts so he can get out from beneath the bed sheets. “You’re right. I don’t want to miss him if that’s the case,” the oldest mumbles. “Joon, what are we going to do if it is him?” 

The air is thick with tension as the two of them mull it over in their minds. Namjoon doesn’t know. Why would Hoseok lie? Is it possible he genuinely forgot them due to amnesia or something? If it is Hoseok and he’s lying, how did he even get so good at it? 

“I don’t know,” he answers finally. “If it is him… we’d have to figure out what happened to him and why he didn’t even show the slightest reaction to seeing me. If he got amnesia or something, I guess that’s possible…” this time, he does his thinking out loud. 

“Mhm... Hoseok wouldn’t be able to hide a genuine reaction like that without something to give him away,” Yoongi responds thoughtfully. “And… if Hoya isn’t Hoseok, I think maybe we should call it a day after that.” He looks pensive, unsettled, and Namjoon can’t blame him at all for it. His mind is still reeling from it all, and his best friend has had even less time to process it. 

He’s just glad that Yoongi doesn’t think he’s crazy… yet, at least. Is he really just losing it? His heartbeat speeds up a little, the anxiety taking over. He doesn’t want to be right about Hoya, but he also really doesn’t want to be wrong. It doesn’t make much sense, but whenever he gets really anxious, his thoughts are full of contradictions and logical thought can’t always make it go away. Logically, he knows that the chances of Hoya being Hoseok are slim to none. Too many things go against what he knows of Hoseok for it to be him. And yet… his gut instinct is saying that it _is_ him. The statistical chances of someone having the same appearance as him are also quite small. Hoseok has very distinct features, like the shape of his lips, and this stranger had the same philtrum. The learned behaviours, like an accent or training to keep a neutral face, can be taught. And Hoseok, who he is as person, may not be like how he remembers anymore. Whatever happened to him had to have been bad, and that would have consequences. It would teach him survival skills. 

“Namjoon, ah, I’m ready to go,” Yoongi says softly, reaching for his hand to get his attention.

“Sorry, I was deep in thought,” he answers, smiling sheepishly as he gives it a small squeeze. It’s comforting and grounding, holding his hand like this. 

“It’s okay, me too,” he says back. “Lead the way.” 

The walk back to Koku feels even longer than the first time he did it earlier this morning, and it has everything to do with their mood and not their actual speed. The hill feels harder, especially for Yoongi, who wears a frown the whole time. Perhaps it’s harder because they’re both trying to be fast-- speed walking up the giant hill is no easy feat. When the building comes back into view, Namjoon takes a deep breath. 

“Here it is,” he says, nodding in the direction of the café. “Are you ready, Yoon?” 

“Yes,” his roommate answers back, smiling at him anxiously before pushing the door open himself. 

Namjoon first looks for the barista, who’s no longer at the counter like he was earlier, and then his gaze flickers to Yoongi, who’s wearing a look of disappointment. His hand clenches his tighter in their hold. Unable to bear seeing that look on his face, he looks around at the other people working. A preppy and short girl with tight black curls and dark skin stands where Hoya once did, taking the order of the couple standing in front of them. There’s someone else working around the corner, probably in the backroom of the café, but he’s way too tall to be Hoya. 

When it’s their turn to come forward, food isn’t on either of their minds. 

“Hi there! Are your drinks alright?” the girl, Tanya, asks, gesturing to the cups they each hold in their hands. 

“Uh... yeah! They’re great actually. I was wondering if Hoya was still around?” Namjoon asks, flashing the girl a smile that he hopes comes across as friendly and not creepy. Questions like that tend to be creepy in most minimum-wage type of jobs, and his social skills are sitting at a negative ten right now. 

“Oh, he’s just on a break. Are you friends of his?” she asks cheerfully, no signs of her thinking they have bad intentions, at least. 

“We used to know him a long time ago,” Yoongi chimes in this time. “We can just wait for his break to be over. Maybe in the mean time, we could get two gochujang brewed pork rice bowls?” 

A wave of gratefulness for Yoongi washes over him from head to toe. He knows he wouldn’t have had the courage to walk back in here if it wasn’t for him. He’s such a mess. This situation is a mess. 

“Sure thing! And I’ll let Hoya know you’re here once his break’s finished. It should only be a couple of minutes,” Tanya says before ringing their total on the register. Yoongi hands his card over, opting out of a receipt, and the two of them take a seat next to the window overlooking the fountain. 

Both of them are fidgeting restlessly, the anticipation and anxiety both causing them to be quieter than usual. A heaviness that’s not usually present over Namjoon anymore hangs over him like a storm cloud. The longer they wait, the more he doubts himself, begins to believe that it’s all just wishful thinking. The chances that this is Hoseok are ridiculously low. Why Seattle of all places? No, no it doesn’t make any sense… Of course Hoseok isn’t here. He’s got to be delusional, or mistaken. It’s impossible to just stumble across the one person he’s spent five years looking for by chance. He’s wrong, and maybe he should just apologize to Yoongi and drag him out of there. 

Or so he thinks… until he lays eyes on Hoya again, walking towards them with rigid posture, and his throat feels tight, and breathing is suddenly a challenge. 

Yoongi’s jaw drops upon seeing him. 

Namjoon feels validated, if not apprehensive. 

“Uh… hello?” Hoya asks uncertainly, pulling out a chair and taking a seat cautiously on the other side of the table from them. This time, Namjoon’s wearing his glasses and can see him so much clearer. There’s no mistaking it. “I believe Tanya said we were old mates. I uh… don’t recognize you, though,” he says warily, rubbing his neck awkwardly. His posture is still so rigidly straight, very... prim and proper. “I’m Hoya, Hoya Park. Nice to meet you.” Those dark brown eyes scream Hoseok to him, but he doesn’t know how to process it. Namjoon tries to look at the hand extended before him, only to be thoroughly distracted by the line-art tattoo. It takes him a second to remember what he’s supposed to do with a handshake. Hoya’s hand is a little cold, and his grip is way firmer than Hoseok’s.

Yoongi’s just frozen, staring at him as if he were an alien. After a moment, he accepts Hoya's handshake, looking as dazed as Namjoon feels. 

“Uh… you look just like our friend. His name is Hoseok. Sorry to corner you while you’re at work,” Namjoon says when his brain begins to function again. He hopes he sounds sincere, because he doesn't want to scare him away at all, not before they've had a chance to talk. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

Hoya looks uncomfortable, and Namjoon supposes this would be the world’s most awkward conversation if it isn’t Hoseok. He can’t shake the feeling that it is him, though, somehow. He can’t put it together just yet, but he feels it. 

“I’m 22,” Hoya responds with a weird look on his face, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation. He doesn’t look distressed or ingenuine, though, like how he imagines he would if these were all lies leaving his lips. Never before has Hoseok ever been able to pull off lying to Namjoon, though. 

“When’s your birthday?” Yoongi asks, his voice smaller than usual but his gaze skeptical as he looks at the barista. 

“The thirteenth of December, 1997,” the barista answers back, fiddling with his hands but not breaking his eye contact with Yoongi. Before either of them can ask more questions, he continues. “If you must know, I was born in Gwangju, and I grew up in Southampton. My parents moved here a few years ago, and I transferred here for uni to follow them.” He looks a bit annoyed, and lets out a sigh, but doesn’t make any moves to leave just yet, though he looks like he wants to. 

The skeptical look on Yoongi’s face hasn’t left. “Would we be able to meet your parents?” he asks pensively, leaning in closer towards Hoya, who subconsciously leans backwards a bit. His back is still perfectly straight, clearly out of tenseness. 

Hoya’s expression turns pained before he answers dismissively. “You can visit their graves if that’s what you want. Have you got a point to any of this? I don't know this Hoseok person, and I'm supposed to be working." 

Ouch, definitely not a good turn in the direction. After a moment of thought, Namjoon knows what to say to hopefully steer the conversation back into a better one. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to upset you…” As he speaks, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling up old pictures, specifically one of Hoseok. “We’re looking for our friend who went missing years ago. You look just like him.” He shows him the picture, and the look that crosses Hoya’s face is indecipherable. It looks like the expression of someone who isn’t sure how to act.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he says after a cautious moment. His expression is very stoic, but not unsympathetic. After taking a closer look at the photo, his expression looks quite confused and maybe a bit surprised. “Blimey, he really does look just like me. That’s uncanny, isn’t it? I understand the barrage of questions, but you must know I’m not him now.” He leans away from the photo, bringing his gaze back to the two of them. A small, sad smile crosses his lips and a look of sympathy shines in his eyes. Nothing about his actions are very Hoseok-like. He doesn’t carry himself the way Hoseok did... Hoseok was never so rigid and still, or prim and proper. He was so relaxed, and radiated optimism with every movement, every facial expression, even when he was upset. Hoya is very cold, aloof, and eerily too perfect. Yet… there’s something that feels off about this whole thing. Namjoon isn’t sure what to make of all of this, and perhaps maybe he’s trying to cling to any small sign Hoya _could_ be Hoseok because he’s too afraid of losing hope again. He wants to bring Hoseok home so badly, he can barely contain himself.

That explains why Namjoon’s heart feels so heavy in his chest, at least. For a brief, brief moment, even though he was nervous as hell, he had hope of finding Hoseok. Now he feels like he’s loosing it and it _hurts_. He can’t make sense of it right now, though, so he swallows the lump forming in his throat and nods. “Yeah,” he says lamely. “Sorry to bother you, Hoya.”

His big, brown doe eyes go from Namjoon to Yoongi warily before he dips his head in acknowledgement. “I wish you good luck in your search. I’ve… been in a similar situation once, with an old mate from college back in England." He looks contemplative for a moment, before continuing. "Perhaps I can give you a bit of advice? Sometimes those who are lost don’t want to be found. I’m not sure what happened between your lot, exactly, but he’ll probably find his way back to you if that’s what he wants, you know?” he asks rhetorically as he stands up from the chair. “Good day.” 

With that, the stranger walks away, leaving the two of them alone at their table. 

Hoya’s words cause a chill to run down his spine. That thought hasn’t crossed his mind before- the idea that Hoseok may not want to be found. His heart aches in a different way now, the way it would as if he’d been abandoned. He doesn’t like to think he’d do that. Hoseok should want to come home, right? 

Right?

He can’t let go of one thought, though. What if he doesn’t want to? Why wouldn't he want to?

“Joonie,” Yoongi murmurs, taking his hand again and giving it a small squeeze. “We should finish eating and head out.” 

“I think maybe we should take it to go, I’m not really in the mood to eat anymore,” he says honestly, gaze falling to his still steaming hot, untouched rice bowl. It smells delicious, but he doesn’t think it’d be possible to eat while he feels this miserable. 

“Sure,” the older nods, patting his hand before letting it go. “I’ll get some to-go boxes, you wait here.” 

Namjoon’s not sure why Yoongi’s so calm, honestly. It seems out of character for him, or perhaps maybe he doesn’t give him enough credit. Rarely does his roommate show how upset he is in the moment. The aftermath, though, will likely be brutal. He wishes he could rewind to this morning and pick a different café to go to. It’s hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that just an hour ago, he was in a good mood, and now he feels… entirely off balance, like the world is spinning around him. 

The second they leave the café, food in hand, Yoongi leans in close to him whispering, “I… have a feeling he’s lying. I can’t fully explain it, but… he never stopped looking at me in the eyes. It felt like he was scared of appearing like he’s lying, so he overcompensated or something. He also gave us more information than we actually asked for, which… is a bit strange. He looked tense during that entire conversation, too. His posture was intensely too perfect.” 

The idea makes him feel more anxious than before. “If he is lying… why would he?” Namjoon asks, mostly to himself. A sinking feeling settles over his chest, making it harder to breathe. “You don’t think he’s being threatened, do you?” 

“We can’t rule it out, but… tell me, am I crazy, or did you feel like that was Seok, too?” the other asks, fiddling with the edge of his long sleeve shirt. He doesn’t meet Namjoon’s eyes, and he wishes he could comfort him the way he needs, except he’s not sure what that is. He’s not even sure what comfort he himself needs right now, he just knows that he’s not okay. Likely Yoongi’s the same. All they can do is not suffer alone, as shitty as it is to say. 

“I… I don’t know,” Namjoon answers after a tense moment. His mind and heart have opposing stances on the subject. “He doesn’t sound like himself, and it’s not just the accent, either. I don’t remember Seok’s voice all that well anymore, but it wasn’t as deep as Hoya’s, I’m pretty sure. But the accent messes me up- I can’t place it for sure.” He breathes out a heavy sigh as they begin their walk down the giant hill. “Hoseok wouldn’t lie unless he needed to, for his safety or maybe his family’s. That still doesn’t make much sense, though. What would anyone threaten him for? It’d be safer to just keep him locked up if that’s the case. No matter how I look at it, the likelihood of that being him is really low, Yoon.” He tries to not let his own sadness bleed into his tone, but it’s not an easy task. Seeing Hoya has him feeling dizzy and off balance, struggling to find his bearings like a wanderer in the desert or a sailor lost at sea. 

“You’re right… but… what does your gut feeling say?” the silver haired man asks, keeping his gaze trained on the ground in front of them as they descend, both breathing heavy from the walk.

“I can’t decide… I don’t know. I think I _want_ it to be him, but I’m not sure if that is just wishful thinking or my gut instincts,” he answers honestly, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. To come so close yet be so far really sucks after the years he’s longed for just one more moment with him. It’s a cruel twist of fate, like the world is taunting him. 

“It’s okay,” he answers dejectedly. “Are you okay if I begin to investigate him? Just… for peace of mind,” Yoongi asks hesitantly, nervously chewing on his lip, still refusing to meet Namjoon’s gaze. 

He instantly finds himself wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “Of course, but you’re a fool if you think you’re doing it alone,” he says, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead. As much as he’s craved that kind of intimacy with him for a long time, now probably isn’t the right time to initiate that and Namjoon respects him far too much to use him for his own comfort.

But seeing a smile cross those lips and his eyes finally meeting his is a small victory, but one he’ll take for now. “Thank you, Joonie. You’re the sweetest.” With his tone and the way he says those words, dragging them out slightly, he gets the strong impression that he wants to say something more, but doesn’t. 

“Anytime, partner,” he says playfully, in a minor attempt to lighten the mood. It somewhat works, because the shorter man scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” Yoongi mumbles, but it’s just loud enough for him to hear. 

God does that make his heart skip a beat. They don’t normally say things like that to each other, even though there’s definitely lots of love there. It had always been there, just it started off platonic rather than romantic. Namjoon himself even said something similar just yesterday, which already feels like a lifetime ago. Now that their relationship is evolving, and those words carry so much more weight than they once did. They effect him so much more than they used to, if his racing heart is anything to go by. 

“Aw, I love you, too,” he answers back with a dopey smile, fondly but also playfully ruffling his heavily bleached locks of hair. 

Just moments ago he felt lost, confused, and off balance, but right now, he’s feeling a sense of direction again, like Yoongi is a compass leading him to where he needs to be. Yoongi’s presence always keeps him steady, especially in stressful situations like what they faced together earlier. And it makes all of the difference. That kind of partnership and dynamic isn’t something he ever wants to lose. 

_"Yah, stop harassing your hyung,"_ he teases back in Korean, and damn, the lighter dynamic is nice. It’s like a breath of fresh air after a windstorm. 

_“Never,"_ the tallest answers back cheekily.

 _Things will be okay,_ he thinks to himself. _Maybe not right now, but eventually._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would LOVE to read your thoughts and get an idea of your reactions to this! What do you think happened to Hobi? Share in the comments below or hit me up on twitter or tumblr! (@kaesm21 on both platforms!)


	7. Face the Morning With Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shock from seeing Hoya ends up bringing Yoongi & Namjoon closer than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do your characters ever just run away from you with their own wills when you're writing? Because mine do. This chapter did not go as intended at all, though I don't think any of you will be complaining ; )
> 
> I hope everyone had a good holiday season! I meant to post this on Christmas day, though I ended up being a little too busy for that. Happy belated Christmas to those who celebrate it!

Chapter Six: Face the Morning With Longing (Eight by IU feat. Suga)

Min Yoongi  
Friday, March 6th, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

There are some days when Yoongi wonders how his life is real. The misfortune, the pain, the angst… why does it always happen to him? If he was the protagonist of an anime, the answer would be easy. He’s cursed, and someday he meets the right people to help him along in his journey. There would be lots of laughs, lots of jokes to keep the story entertaining while he sorts out his shit (and probably saves the world). But this isn’t an anime, this is his real life, and the list of people in Yoongi’s life grows shorter and shorter as the years pass. Ultimately he does it so he can protect his heart from more pain, more death. If he cares about less people, there’s less pain. Or so he thought, for a long time. Now he knows the isolation is also part of the pain he carries, and he so desperately wants to get better, enjoy life again, have a reason to get up in the morning.

And just when he comes to that realization and decides he wants more from life than misfortune, it lashes out at him, like mother slapping a child’s hand away from a jar of sweets. He doesn’t want to fall apart, because it’s clear Namjoon needs stability, but he feels the cracks in his composure forming, as if he’s an ancient marble statue in a museum.

Just what happened to Hoseok? Why is he so certain it’s him, when everything logical Namjoon said is all true? The chances of some random stranger in a random café in a random city being the exact one person he’s spent years searching for is ludicrous. No way. 

And yet… he can’t shake off the feeling he has. Every time he’s denied his gut instincts, bad things have happened. Logic can’t explain why he got a bad vision just _minutes_ before Hoseok’s accident. It isn’t logical that he dreamt of visiting Jaemin in the ICU before his drunk father accidentally pushed his own son down the stairs, causing his death. Logic can’t explain why he had a dream of a car crash the very morning before his parents’ car was wrecked by a semi truck and they died instantly upon impact. Everyone tried to tell him that he didn’t know those things would happen, that he probably was retroactively finding some reason to blame himself for those deaths, and made up those dreams as some sort of twisted coping mechanism. That’s what his therapist in Korea said, but…

No. No more logical thinking. Fuck it. 

That’s Jung Hoseok.

He knows it in his soul, but how the hell does he use logic to prove it? Namjoon… he’ll need solid proof. He’ll need to know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s him, and Yoongi needs to be careful to not hurt his feelings in the investigation process. His roommate is always the most stoic of them, but he isn’t as unaffected as he thinks, and something like this can do real damage to him. It already has, judging by the glazed over expression and lack of appetite. He barely looks alive, so different from how he looked last night gazing at the skyline. 

How does Yoongi make this better? He fiddles with his sleeve, biting on his bottom lip. Touch. Touch is a better way of communication for him when he’s also on edge. It reminds him that the people he’s worried for are right there, touchable, warm, and _breathing._ Without anymore time to worry over his choice, he takes Namjoon’s arm and clings to it, keeping his own body close. 

A small bit of relief settles over him, watching the instantaneous reaction from the taller of them, the distant look in his eyes refocusing on the present. “Joonie, it’ll be okay,” he murmurs softly despite his heavy breathing from their walk back to the inn. “We’ll go back inside, and we’ll rest for a bit before deciding what to do with our day.” He feels better as he comforts him, enjoying the warmth of their proximity. 

“Okay, hyung,” the brunette says softly. “Thank you.” His voice sounds so small, so fragile. It pulls at the heartstrings inside Yoongi’s chest, as if being witness to his pain hurts him, too. 

He really does love him. 

This time the realization isn’t so startling or overwhelming, it’s more like someone just commented on the weather, or stated the obvious. He just can’t quite bring himself to say it yet. The timing feels horrible, because if that really is Hoseok…

What does he feel for him?

What does Namjoon feel for him? 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he takes the lead once they enter the inn, pressing the button for their level. He’s glad they’ll be back in safer territory, a place where they can just be themselves and exist without prying eyes. He can already feel unshed tears forming as the shock wears off from this morning’s events, leaving a whole lot of longing in its wake. He longs for Namjoon’s smile, his cuddles… but simmering below the surface, he longs for Hoseok again. He longs to hold him, to cry into his shoulder, to ask what happened to him. He longs for the days when it was the three of them living together, the mornings where Hoseok would wake him with coffee and breakfast, and Namjoon would hold his cup, fondly staring at the two of them from the doorway until one of them waved him inside. He misses when they would all curl up together on their tiny ass college-kid second hand sofa and watch things together. He misses when Hoseok’s hair was red, and he would dramatically roll his eyes at the mention of anime despite looking just like one of the characters on screen. He misses the way Namjoon would laugh and joke that only Yoongi appreciates his good taste. He misses how lighthearted those moments were, and he wonders if they’ll ever have that again. Has too much changed? Does Hoseok even remember them? Does he miss those moments, too?

The longing in his soul doesn’t go away when they finally step into their hotel room, and the tears fall freely into Namjoon’s shoulder. The moment the tallest of them hears him, he twists around to wrap him in a much needed hug. The way he holds him, Yoongi feels a rush of so _much_ emotion he can’t even begin to sort through. 

Love. Hurt. Responsibility. Both protectiveness and protection. 

Namjoon is his partner in so many ways. The two of them share a bond nobody would ever be able to understand the complexity and the intricate ways they’ve been there for one another. He’s known that since the night they received news about Seok, and he’s always taken comfort in that fact. He knows Namjoon would never leave him behind willingly. He knows that he’ll always be there to pick him up, and vice verse. Now, though, he wonders if this bond might break the one he shares (shared?) with Hoseok. 

He cries harder, and notices he isn’t the only one. They let go of one another to shed their layers of wet clothing, and once they do, Yoongi takes Namjoon's hand in his. The connection is so simple, yet he _needs_ it. He leads them down to the bed, reluctantly letting go of the hand that makes him feel safe in order to readjust in a more comfortable way. Wanting to face him, he positions Namjoon on his back, much like how they were this morning. Yoongi settles into his side, resting his hand over his roommate’s heart. Time passes like that, the two of them seeking comfort in each other and letting the moment take over them. They need this. They need to feel everything that has happened. 

“I can’t… believe all of this…” the brunette mumbles eventually, breaking the silence. “Why now? Why?” 

“I know,” Yoongi agrees, bringing his hand upwards to cup Namjoon’s cheek tenderly. The smooth skin is still wet with tears, though he’s no longer actively crying. “We’ll find out who he is, and what happened to Hoseok. We will.” He’s often felt hopeless when it comes to this case— and sometimes that hits harder than he ever wants to admit— but right now, he’s never been so sure of it before. He knows they will find out the truth. It will hurt, it will cause more pain, but they will get through it. 

It feels good to have hope again, and he wants so desperately to share that with his roommate.

“I hope so, Yoongs,” the other says. “I just… miss him. I feel like there’s a gaping hole in my heart that can’t be filled no matter what I do, and seeing him today, I feel like everything I thought I know is wrong.”

The blonde nods, shuddering as Namjoon voices the same thoughts he has on the subject. Yoongi just views it differently... he feels like everything they speculated, considered, and studied was wrong, which is why they never solved it. Now seeing Hoya makes something more clear to Yoongi, even if he doesn't like it. There's far more at play here than he knows, but it's like instead of this big, giant cloud of confusion, it's taking shape. Of what, he doesn't know yet. Now he's certain he will. “I understand, Joonie. There are a lot of questions to be answered. I know things hurt right now, but… I think we’ll both finally learn what happened. I think we’ll get through this, and we’ll be okay.” He wants so badly to kiss him, to comfort him in the most intimate way possible. He breaks their eye contact and subconsciously lets his gaze land on Namjoon's smooth, plush looking lips. 

Is that selfish of him? Probably. Namjoon is different than he is with physical intimacy. It’s never been something the younger just indulges in. Where Yoongi has the occasional one night stands and hookups, Namjoon’s only reserved physical affection for the people he has a close bond with, whether that be friendly or romantic. He’s only ever had a few serious boyfriends before, and it took months for either of them to get to any intimate level with Namjoon. Not that Yoongi had been paying too close attention. It’s just… that apartment walls are not exactly soundproof, and the younger has never been one to sexile anyone. Though Yoongi would have preferred that, in hindsight. Some of what he heard plagued him for weeks afterwards. 

But Yoongi can't make anything better like this. He can't make Hoseok come back, or clear up all of the confusion surrounding his disappearance. But he can... make himself crystal clear with Namjoon. He can show him, plainly, visibly, obviously, what kind of relationship he wants with him. He can make one thing clear when everything else is blurry. Is he ready to do that?

His heartbeat is probably erratic as he returns his gaze to meet Namjoon's eyes. As he looks into them, he feels safe. He feels like it's right. _Time to take a risk_ , he thinks to himself. “Joon, is this… okay?” he asks, more calmly than he thinks he feels, as he leans in closer, their lips hovering just a centimeter apart. The longing feeling comes rushing back tenfold, being so close yet potentially so far away from one of the things his heart aches for. 

There’s something new, something warm awakening in those anguished brown eyes. It sends a spark through Yoongi, especially as the word “Yes,” leaves those plush lips so close to his own. He brings them together, keeping it chaste, but it feels so good that a moan he’s not even aware of escapes his throat. For a few moments, both of them revel in the newness of their kiss and enjoy each other. Yoongi quells his desires to let his hands roam or deepen the kiss, not wanting to overwhelm Namjoon or take things too far. Just when he thinks maybe he should pull back and check on him, Namjoon’s hand slips beneath the seam of his shirt, and the touch of his hand on the bare skin of his back makes him feel _hot._

But he can’t rush this, even if he can feel arousal pooling in his abdomen. He can’t overindulge, or use the one person who’s been his rock through everything. What he can do is let him set the pace, let him decide how far they go. He lets himself enjoy the kiss, but doesn’t allow himself to deepen it. As little as they’ve done, it feels like something good is happening. He can’t fix everything, but this tension that’s been between them is finally working itself out. That alone is cathartic and soothing, like he can feel a balm settling over his bleeding heart. 

It’s Namjoon who takes things further, pulling Yoongi closer to him, on top of him, out of an entirely different kind of need than earlier. A hand comes up to his hair, causing Yoongi to tilt his head further to the side, and the press of Namjoon’s tongue against his lips is dizzying. He welcomes it into his mouth, letting him explore as he wants. Yoongi knows it's okay to just let himself feel, and god does he feel good right now. It’s hard to wrap his head around the concept that he’s wanted by the person who wants him— he’s so used to pining, that this is new. 

He lets Namjoon keep control of the kiss, grateful that he has because he feels like everything is spinning. All he can do is _feel._ He feels those wonderfully soft lips locked with his, his tongue sliding over his own, the heat of their bodies pressed so close together. It feels so good. 

When Yoongi pulls away for air and a moment to collect himself from the overwhelming amount of heat settling over his body, he shivers as Namjoon’s lips kiss a trail down his neck, teeth lightly nipping at the sensitive skin there. Another moan rumbles from deep within him, and he peels his eyes open to look at Namjoon, searching for a sense of how he’s doing, what he needs. 

“Are you still okay with where this is going?” Yoongi asks, his voice breathless from their kiss as he straightens his head upwards to meet Namjoon’s gaze. 

What he sees there is enough to send a shock of white hot arousal down his spine, making him feel hot all over. The brunette looks _hungry._ “I want you, Yoongi. I have for a long time now.” The words are said with such certainty that he can’t hold back anymore, his body’s needs outweighing any resistance he had left now that he has permission. 

He adjusts so his legs are tangled between Namjoon’s, shuddering at the feeling of his half-hard cock pressed his abdomen, so close to his own. Their lips meet again, and this time, it’s Yoongi who deepens the kiss, expertly kissing him with a passion that he’s never experienced before, like he's being swept up in a tsunami and can barely control himself. He can feel as Namjoon surrenders, loosing himself in the moment, and he considers it one of the most precious things he’s ever witnessed. The sound he makes as the blonde sucks on his tongue is full of sin and need, spurring him on further. 

His grip on Namjoon’s cheek subsides, and he slides his hand down the toned chest. There’s too much clothing for him to have much of an effect, but he hovers over Namjoon’s clothed nipple for a moment, pinching the small nub slightly, testing the waters regardless. The reaction he receives is positively delicious, feeling his body shudder beneath his, and he swallows the small whine he emits as they kiss. He’d always suspected Namjoon’s nipples would be sensitive, but never thought he’d actually get the nerve to do something about it. He can’t wait to see how he reacts when there isn’t a barrier between them.

“Hyung,” Namjoon pleads, his hand on his lower back tightening as his desperation grows. “Can I take this off?” he breathes, tugging on the shirt. 

“Yes,” Yoongi replies, reluctantly pulling away to sit up and help the other strip off the layers of clothing covering upper body. His hoodie goes first, then his long sleeve shirt. He tosses both to a corner of the room, near the window sill. His heartbeat is frantic as the younger stares at his half naked body, the intensity in his eyes staggering. _I make him feel like this,_ he realizes, shuddering at the implications of that. _This is really happening._

“You’ve always been so attractive,” the brunette comments, letting both of his hands explore the vast amount of milky skin revealed. Under his touch, Yoongi feels his lust building in pressure, like a bottle of champagne ready to pop open and fizz over. 

“Look who’s talking,” he answers back, a seductive smirk crossing his lips as he gives himself a turn to feel Namjoon up, sneaking his hands beneath the fabric to feel his smooth skin and abs with the bare pads of his fingertips. “I can feel your muscles tensing under my touch.” Fuck, his reactions are going to be the death of him. Namjoon’s so responsive, so sensitive. Maybe a side effect of not having many intimate experiences, or maybe it’s because the dynamic between them is on a whole different level. Yoongi's never felt like this with anyone other than Hoseok before, this kind of desperate need and inescapable heat. There's something so different about these two, something that sets them apart from everyone he's ever met. It's like they're designed for just him. 

Yoongi feels extra sensitive, too. He grinds against Namjoon’s crotch subconsciously, especially when his hand wanders over his hip. His hands are strong, and feel so good gripping onto him like that. His mind is going numb, letting his senses go wild instead. Every touch is sending a wave of need through his body. Has Namjoon always had such talented hands? 

He nearly snorts as he remembers, _no,_ he’s very clumsy. But not right now, not with him. Perhaps he just requires the right motivation. His lips curl into a smirk and he decides it’s time he’s not the only one who’s half naked. He needs more to touch, more to work with.

“Strip,” he orders huskily to the taller male as he sits up yet again, this time giving him the space to take everything off. “I want to see all of you,” he murmurs in a softer tone. His gaze remains on him heatedly, watching as he frantically begins removing the clothing that separates them.

Sometimes Namjoon enters his dreams— the ones that don’t involve death or panic— and it drives him crazy, the speculation. He's never actually seen Namjoon fully naked before, and usually anytime that thought crossed his mind, he felt guilty for it. Not now, though. Not in the slightest. The closest Yoongi’s come to seeing him naked was when he wore just boxers in their apartment back home during a major heat wave a few summers ago... until now. That thought sends white hot arousal straight to his cock, and he can feel the precum starting to leak in his underwear. 

“Yes, sir,” the brunette teases him, though his cheeks are flushed as he speaks. The words send a wave of satisfaction over Yoongi, one that he hasn’t felt in far too long. Taking command in bed is something that he doesn’t do regularly, usually preferring to be the one taking orders, but perhaps it’s because Namjoon’s so fragile right now, or Yoongi’s role as hyung is kicking into high gear, or maybe his experience is the biggest factor, but it feels _good_ to be in charge, to be listened to, to be _obeyed_. 

“Good boy,” he teases back, breathing picking up the pace as Namjoon’s sun-kissed skin, taught muscles, and pert pink nipples are all revealed to him. The sight is mouthwatering. Namjoon's body is reminiscent of a Greek god, with sculpted arms and defined abs. His skin is a beautiful bronze compared to his own milk-white skin. Seeing the contrast makes his heart flutter when Yoongi opts to help him undress by tugging his jeans all the way off in one go.

Thick, beautiful, strong thighs are right in front of him, and _fuck,_ Yoongi wants to feel their strength first hand. Perhaps another time, though, because he has other plans for today… but he finds it hard to stay committed to them as he slides Namjoon’s underwear off, too. He swallows thickly, being face to face with the one part of Namjoon he's unfamiliar with. His fantasies have nothing on the real thing. His cock is the perfect size— both long and girthy, slightly curled up. His cock leaks a few beads of precum as he wonders how that would feel inside him. Though just moments ago he reveled in the control his partner gave him, he would certainly _not_ be opposed to being pinned down and fucked hard with this perfect cock. 

“Like what you see?” Namjoon says with a sultry smirk as he grabs Yoongi by the hair, startling him slightly, as if the brunette had somehow heard his thoughts. He’s only half aware of the desperate moan he lets out at the contact, keeling into his touch. Rough sex is one of his biggest turn ons, and god, he'd never let himself even consider Namjoon playing rough with him, but it's so _hot._

“Yes,” he manages, leaning in to bite that smirk off of his lips for revenge, not wanting to be the only one so desperately turned on.

Namjoon’s low whine causes his cock throb inside his jeans, and he needs them _off._ Now. His whole body feels tingly, like every touch and every sound is gasoline, adding fuel to the fire raging inside. His fingertips running down his back feel like flames licking at his skin, relentlessly teasing him, delicious but not _enough_. He nearly loses his balance as Namjoon’s hand dips beneath his jeans, thumbing at his cock through his boxers. Fuck, normally he can control himself better than this, but it's like Namjoon's going at him with every trick up his sleeve, and he's just melting. 

“Joon,” he moans into his mouth, blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of his back, revealing just how worked up he is to the other. 

“ _Fuck,_ Yoongi, you sound so good,” Namjoon grunts, switching their positions to be on top. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear how good you’re feeling. I’m going to make you lose your voice.” 

The words make his cock throb yet again, this time the feeling is so much more intense with the press of Namjoon’s hand right there. The blonde’s bare back hits the warm, plush bedding and even that feels good against his heated flesh. His head is spinning a little, due to his lightheadedness from the kissing and the sudden change in position. “Shit,” he grumbles, squirming slightly from beneath him. “I didn’t know you could talk like that.” 

The look Namjoon gives him this time makes him shudder with anticipation. Those beautiful brown eyes are glazed over with lust, half-lidded, and a light sheen of sweat beads on his forehead. He smells like sandalwood, cedar, and sex, spicy but musky… and completely intoxicating. If looks could make him come alone, this one would do it. His whole body awaits in anticipation, craving whatever touch he’s given. Each touch makes a new wave of need wash over his body. 

“I know what you like,” the other quips, far too unaffected for Yoongi’s sanity. 

He can feel his cheeks flush, not expecting to be called out so quickly. He knows the words are true, though, because Yoongi is quite open about sex and pleasure. He’s shown his fair share of dirty lyrics from his notebook with Namjoon… and of course, he’s no stranger to hookups. That doesn’t mean he was prepared for him to come at him with all of that right away, though. It takes a moment for him to recover, to remember he needs to respond to his suddenly dominant roommate. “So what are you going to do about it, then?” As he asks this, he feels a thrill shoot down his spine. He needs his underwear and jeans off _right now._

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Namjoon decides to choose that moment to finish removing the last of his clothes, though he does it agonizingly slow for Yoongi's sanity. “I’m going to tease you until you’re desperate to come,” he answers, his voice husky and hoarse, lower than normal out of lust. 

He bites his lip to hold back a groan, the words sending another wave of arousal he can feel all the way to the tips of his toes. Someday he does want Namjoon to make good on those words, someday when they have more time and preferably with lube. 

“Good luck,” Yoongi challenges, despite how desperate he’s already feeling. “Because I think that’s my job tonight, baby.” While he _glows_ under his attention like this, he wants to be in charge for tonight. 

The term of endearment came out on accident, but oh, Namjoon’s blush is so worth it. Yoongi takes advantage of his momentary daze and brings their lips back together in a heated kiss. It takes the younger a moment to respond, but once he does, he’s fighting him to regain dominance. Fuck if it doesn’t turn him on _more._ He hadn’t anticipated how fired up the brunette would be, how much he’d reciprocate. Yoongi isn’t used to being _challenged_. Not anymore. If he took control, he _kept_ it. Hookups were always so clear in the ways that they’d go, who would top, what kind of sex they’d have...

But this? 

He has no idea, and that thrill of the unknown is addicting. Namjoon’s plush lips and hot tongue feel like heaven against his, like this is exactly where they belong. The sounds he makes are like his own brand of aphrodisiac, just the right thing to drive him crazy and send him over the edge. He just barely has enough control to stop from falling… for now. 

Yoongi spreads his legs and wraps them around Namjoon’s waist, and he smirks into their kiss at the way the brunette presses him harder into the bed, just as desperate and needy. He’s losing himself and his composure with every moment that passes, and the way he comes apart is one of the most sensual sights the blonde has ever witnessed. He likes watching Namjoon's composure come apart, give way to the most primal of needs. 

Their lips part, both of them panting for breath. Yoongi takes the opportunity to pinch a pert nipple, unobstructed by clothing this time. The brunette gasps, and bucks his hips forward on reflex at the sensation, bringing a smirk to the corners of his lips. 

“I could play with you like this all day,” the blonde mutters, his voice already wrecked. He's sure Namjoon likes the way his voice is hoarse and gravelly. His fingers swirl around the nub before he splays his hand out, grabbing his entire pectoral muscle before giving it a squeeze.

" _Fuck_ , hyung, don’t make me wait that long,” Namjoon whines, and it brings a wicked grin to his lips. "Please." 

“Oh, Namjoon baby, we’re only getting started,” he teases, bringing his lips to the shell of his ear, nipping at the flesh of his lobe, near an earring. He misses being able to see the look on his face at the pet name, but his whole body’s tensing and squirming is enough to give away how much he appreciates it. “I’m going to make you feel so good, you’ll be the one without a voice.” With a grunt, he rolls them over so he’s back on top yet again. 

“Hyung, _fuck,_ ” the brunette moans, his hands adjusting to sit on his hips, keeping him close. Their bare cocks brush against one another for a moment, and damn if that small bit of friction doesn't feel like heaven on his swollen, heated flesh. 

He kisses a trail starting with the soft skin beneath his ear all the way down his neck and to his chest. His hands are far less restricted in this position, and he relentlessly pinches and rubs the two nipples on Namjoon’s chest. He shares an intense gaze with the younger, relishing in how blissed out he looks, the tangled hair and slightly swollen lips that Yoongi caused, before leaning down and taking a small nub into his mouth. 

“Ahh,” Namjoon says, his body shuddering beneath Yoongi’s. The sound goes straight to the blonde’s already throbbing cock, and fuck, if they don’t hurry up, he’s going to leak precum all over the sheets. 

He spends a little time on each nipple, using all of the skills his wicked tongue is capable of. With each movement, the brunette grows so desperate, his fingers will probably leave bruises on the blonde’s hips, not that he cares, he loves feeling how good Namjoon’s feeling.

“Hyung, s-stop,” the younger whines, a hand coming up to tangle in Yoongi’s blonde locks. “I need more. I need more of you, please.” 

“Shit, how can I say no when you sound like that,” the blonde replies, giving him a quick, sweet kiss. “I want you inside me, but for now, I’ll have to settle for having you in my mouth until we get lube.” 

Namjoon hums in thought for a moment, holding Yoongi in place. “I want you in my mouth, too,” he murmurs after a second. “I want to make you come first, and I’m worried I’ll crash after.” 

“God, you’re so cute,” Yoongi says, a warm rush of fondness washing over him, especially at the sheepish expression on those handsome features. “I love you so much.” The words slip out— entirely on accident— and for a moment, he panics slightly, seeing the shock cross his features. It had felt so natural to say that even Yoongi is reeling. Normally he’s always so self aware and would never confess something so important in such a heated moment. 

His nerves disappear seconds later, seeing Namjoon’s gorgeous, most genuine smile. “Hah, I got you to say it first,” he teases before bringing their lips together, and though they’re both clearly hot and needy, bodies blazing with arousal, the kiss is full of purity and clear intentions. It’s warm, and familiar despite only knowing Namjoon’s lips for such a short time. When he pulls back, he whispers, “I love you, too. Now turn around, _baby_. We'll do sixty-nine.” 

The words send a shiver down his spine, his cheeks feeling flushed now that he’s being called that. He does as he’s told, though, carefully placing his legs on either side of Namjoon’s face. Being met with the cock in front of him, he finally feels like he might get some relief. He uses one arm to brace himself against the bed, and the other instantly gently grips the base of the younger’s large cock. He kisses the tip, lips curling upwards at the taste of precum, before he sinks down, taking him in inch by inch, slowly to give himself time to adjust. The girth strains his jaw slightly, since he’s bigger than most of the partners he’s had before, but Yoongi considers himself an expert at this, so he _will_ take all of him. 

It’s tentative, at first, but Namjoon’s plush lips meet the heated, sensitive flesh of his throbbing cock. Yoongi moans at the sensation, and the sound causes vibrations against Namjoon’s cock, causing him to moan back in tandem. It hits him, how intimate sixty-nine actually is. He loves feeling how good Namjoon's feeling, and it's only amplified when his own cock is wrapped in hot, wet heat. The drag of his tongue over the tip makes him release a guttural, low whine from the back of his throat. It takes a lot of self control to refrain from fucking into his mouth. 

A moment later, he finally takes all of Namjoon’s length is inside his throat, distracting the younger from the ministrations on his cock. "Shit," the other moans, hot breath tickling the head of Yoongi's cock. "Nobody's... ever been able to take all of me," he pants, using his thumb to press into the slit of Yoongi's cock, smearing the precum around the tip. This time it's Yoongi who lets out a moan, feeling so fucking _good_ with a cock in his mouth and his own cock being pleasured like this. He loves the stretch in his jaw, the taste of Namjoon on his tongue, and the feeling of being trusted to see his roommate like this, to do this for him. It's hitting him so hard. 

He grows bolder, beginning to bob and swirl his tongue over the head, not wanting to let go of this delicious cock in order to respond to Namjoon's words. If nobody's been able to take it before, Yoongi is going to send him to the stars with how good he'll make him feel. With determination, he pulls out all of his best tricks, alternating between all of them quickly, increasing his speed as the sounds the younger make grow more and more desperate. The tanned, lithe body beneath his shudders harshly with his edging to orgasm, and his hips tremble like he’s struggling to keep them still. It turns Yoongi on to the point he can feel that familiar heat in his stomach getting closer and closer to boiling over, too.

The brunette manages to take the blonde’s whole cock, too, and Yoongi swears he sees white dancing across his vision for a moment. The wet heat of his lips and mouth are so good, so sweet, so much. And feeling the veiny, pulsing cock inside his own mouth reminds him how good he’s making Namjoon feel. Fuck if that’s not the closest thing to perfect that he’s ever experienced. 

Seconds later, the brunette’s groans are getting more frequent, much shorter, and his hips aren't staying still anymore, warning him how close he is. When Yoongi sucks _hard_ , Namjoon’s hips buck deep into his mouth. “Hyung, I’m going to-” the younger pants, momentarily stopping the use of his mouth on the blonde’s cock. Instead of pulling off, too, Yoongi goes harder, using his free hand to fondle his balls. Not even a moment later, the salty taste of come fills his mouth, and he greedily swallows every last drop. 

Namjoon’s moans as he orgasms are pure sin, and knowing he’s satisfied makes Yoongi feel positively _high_. His mind is fuzzy as he feels the younger’s hands and lips return to his leaking cock, and he shakes with the intensity of his own budding orgasm. All he can feel is the wet, tight, heat of Namjoon against his most sensitive body part. Though the younger is less experienced, he _knows_ what he's doing, and every action is pure bliss. Yoongi's far more relaxed, knowing his partner has already orgasmed, and he feels like he can really give way to the pleasure now. Every brush of his lips, every touch of his hand, every suck on his cock pushes him closer, and closer until he's right at the edge. He barely has a chance to warn the other before the coil inside him snaps, and he’s collapsing face-first downwards, struck by the power of his climax and feeling like he’s floating on cloud nine. Namjoon’s hands steady him through it, and he swallows the most of his come as he comes down from the high. 

Already craving a different kind of intimacy, Yoongi turns over and settles back into his original position; resting his head on Namjoon’s chest. This time, though, he tilts his head up to maintain a clear view of his face. He looks so relaxed and at ease, you would have to look hard to find evidence of him crying earlier. 

Ah. Yoongi’s brain just had to remind him of why this happened so quickly. 

Instead of letting himself grow anxious, he grounds himself with the sense of touch between them. Skin on skin is one of the most comforting sensations he’s ever felt, and it’s so much better when it’s Namjoon who’s holding him.

If he closes his eyes, he is almost entirely absorbed into the sound of his heartbeat. Its steady, reassuring, comforting thumping reminds him of the fact that even though that heart has suffered a great loss and is still going through things, it’s still going. His own heart can, too. 

For a while, the two of them linger in the post-orgasmic bliss, silently enjoying each other’s company and warmth. Yoongi’s thoughts go quiet, too, and ordinarily, he’d fall asleep right afterwards if there wasn’t a round two. But Namjoon’s someone he wants to spend time cuddling, to continue feeling after they’ve gotten past the sex part. It feels almost dreamlike, healing him in a way that not much else could. He drinks in the silence, savve for the brunette's slowing breathing and heartbeat right next to his ear. This felt so good, and inexplicably right. The circumstances leading to this weren't great, but having had him so intimately, Yoongi feels reassured in a way he can't put words to. 

When Namjoon’s eyelids finally drop, Yoongi presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, full of affection and tenderness. He wants so badly to protect him, to keep him safe, warm, and happy like this. Eventually he allows his own eyes to close, too, once it's clear the younger isn't waking anytime soon.

Today might not have been something they could have prepared for, but they have each other, and now in one of the most intimate ways. Whatever problems they’ll have to face, that fact won’t change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed the update!! This chapter ended up being mostly filler... all in preparation for next chapter, of course. Please leave some comments, I'd love to hear your thoughts and get your feelings on the fic thus far! And thank you to those who've already left comments. They absolutely, totally, 100% make my day. <3


	8. Find the Me That was Innocent, I Can’t Free Myself from This Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shhh... it's a surprise, just read. ; )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit sadistic and love torturing my readers, so enjoy the chapter that probably creates more questions than it answers them. xD
> 
> A warning is warranted, though. I've updated some tags to prepare you for some triggering topics that will eventually make their way into the story. This chapter is full of tamed angst, but future chapters, I won't hold back as much. This story accidentally ended up being way fluffier than I meant it to be in the beginning, and though the Graphic Depictions of Violence has been tagged from the beginning, it has yet to happen in the story itself. So just warning everyone that from here on, things will get pretty intense.

Chapter Seven: Find the Me That was Innocent, I Can’t Free Myself from This Lie (Lie, Jimin)

Jung Hoseok  
Friday, March 6th, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

His veins feel like they’re flooded with ice water, causing him to move slowly, lethargically. All it took to shatter the carefully crafted barrier around his heart was one appearance of the past he could never go back to. The walls he built to protect himself, to force himself to move on are shattering like ice being scraped off from a windshield of a car in winter, yet his face remains neutral. Looking at him now, you would never know just how broken he is, how lost his soul is. His whole life is an intricate web of elaborate lies, weaving and connecting in various places with not a single loose end. The façade he shows to the world has just enough authenticity to be him while simultaneously being a stranger to himself… but without that mask, he doesn’t know who he is anymore. 

And if seeing Namjoon alone wasn’t bad enough, Yoongi showed up, too. 

They just stumbled back into his life by pure coincidence, leaving the destruction of his carefully crafted security network in their wake. Answering their questions was like his own personal hell. He hated lying straight to their faces, but… it’s not like he can just come out with the truth. He still hasn’t even come close to accepting what happened to him and it’s been _years._ How could they grasp it in mere moments? 

Watching them walk away, though, it’s like suddenly Hoseok is that frightened boy who crashed his car on May 19th all over again. He’s back to square one, reminded of what it’s like to have everything taken from you in a single instant. That kind of devastation is nearly impossible to recover from.

“Hoya, do you need a shot of espresso? You look tired today,” his coworker Tanya comments, concern briefly shining in her dark chocolate coloured eyes. She brings a hand to his shoulder, and it reminds him that he’s definitely been spacing out a bit. Getting back to himself, he remembers that he’s supposed to be wiping the counters down, and he’s wiped the same spot three times already. 

“Oh! Yeah, I think I could use it today,” he replies back, using the accent he’s become accustomed to, blinking for a moment before fully collecting himself. He has a role to play, and if he begins acting even the slightest bit suspicious, things won’t go well for him. “I’m knackered from burning the midnight oil last night.” For emphasis, he stretches his back a bit, rubbing his neck, a frown on his lips as if he's sore, when in actuality, he's physically fine. 

She laughs and shakes her head, though she places the shot glass and queues up the shot from the machine regardless. “Dancing or studying this time?” 

“Dancing!” he huffs dramatically, scrunching his face up in a scowl. “I swear Jimin’s going to be the death of me one of these days. He’s working me to the bone for the showcase this weekend.”

Seeing his coworker’s smile light up her face reminds him that he’s still capable of making others feel good, even when he’s feeling gutted and worse for wear on the inside. Funny how out of it he really is at the moment, because he’s hardly trying and still able to convince his coworker--someone he sees at least three times a week-- that he’s absolutely fine, and like his world didn’t just come crumbling down a second time. Then again, he has an overwhelming amount of practice at being “Hoya,” someone who’s typically quiet and intense, except while at work or talking about dancing. That’s not hard for him to act as.

“You know you’ll thank him later, the guy’s a genius choreographer,” she says with a shit-eating grin that brings a smile to Hoseok’s face. 

“You’re cheeky,” he quips, taking the shot glass of freshly brewed espresso. He doesn’t bother to blow on it before downing it, unaffected by the scalding temperature against his tongue and throat. “You’re not wrong, though.” The glass clinks as he sets it back on the metal grate of the espresso machine. 

“And you’re _daft_ ,” she teases, using a faux British accent at his foolish behavior. “Why would you down that whole shot just after it finished brewing? How are your taste buds not dying right now?”

Rolling his eyes, he throws his towel back down onto the half-clean countertop. It's so easy to fake a smile. “I’m used to drinking boiling hot tea, it’s not like coffee is all that different,” he says with a shrug as he wipes the rest of the counter down, doing a much more thorough job compared to earlier now that he's found a shred of energy to focus on the task at hand.

 _Just get through the last hour and a half, you can do this,_ he thinks to himself. 

“Why’s Hoya daft this time?” Kris, the owner of the café, asks as they walk into the room, a manicured eyebrow raised. They're carrying a bunch of invoices, probably having finished doing inventory in the back. 

“He didn’t wait for the espresso shot to cool!” Tanya answers, chuckling softly as she places various dishes into the three compartment sink. “Only an idiot would risk burning their tongue like that.”

Kris laughs, shaking their head slightly in amusement, but it’s hard enough for their bronze-coloured curls to fall into their face. “Hoya, don’t you dare make me file any sort of workplace injury report. You know how much I hate paperwork!” Using a hair tie from their wrist, they pull their hair back up into a messy bun, a look of disapproval on their face. "I already have enough of it as is." 

“Blimey, why are you both so worried? It’s just coffee!” he groans, feigning moderate annoyance. He's losing his playful edge, though that's fine. More often than not, he's grumpy at work. People attempt to talk to him less that way, making his job pretending to be someone else a hell of a lot easier. 

“We’re not,” Kris answers, leaning against the edge of the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I just came out here to tell you that you’re free to clock out early today. You came in pretty early yesterday, and things are slow enough right now since the rush ended. Inventory's done, too, so I'm free to cover the bar." 

“Lucky you!” Tanya says from the sink, and though she’s not facing them, Hoseok can _hear_ the pout in her voice without having to see it firsthand. 

Normally Hoseok’s luck is abysmal at worst and crappy at best, but he’ll absolutely take them up on the offer… with an excuse ready on the tip of his tongue, of course. “Sure, thanks, mate. I could use a bit more studio time.” 

“Don’t strain yourself,” they reply, dismissively waving him. “See you tomorrow.” 

“Tell that to Jimin!” Hoseok moans, shaking his head as he takes his apron off, throwing it in the laundry bin. His things are right next to the bin, thankfully, so he doesn't have to go far. He slides his bag handle over his shoulder and clutches his keys in hand. “See you tomorrow,” he says to both of his coworkers, waving just slightly. It's just enough to not be entirely dickish, though they seem to like him well enough despite him not trying to win their favour. 

“Bye, Hoya!” Tanya sing-songs as he exits. 

The smile that he wore falls away instantly when he’s no longer in their view. It’s not that he doesn’t like them… it’s just they’re so normal. So ordinary and human. Everything that he’s not, and they cannot even begin to grasp all that he’s been through. Hoseok doesn’t even feel like he belongs there, even though he likes it there for the most part. He idly wonders if he’ll always feel like the shoe that doesn’t fit, the nomad without a home. So many lines are blurry now— he doesn’t feel American, or British, or even Korean. His voice isn’t his own anymore, yet it's a product of his creation, his acting. He may be physically young but the trauma has aged him far beyond his years. Now he’s neither young nor old, his cultural identity is in chaos, and his heart is nothing but conflicted. There are only a handful of constants in his new life.

Jimin and Becky. Jin. The kids. Dance. 

That’s it. Those are now the biggest components of his character, his newest and strongest defining factors in his life. Just five people know his burdens and truths, and only one passion to throw all of his blood, sweat, and tears into. His life is simultaneously impossibly complicated and much simpler than it once was. 

He reminds himself that not all of his new life is bad. Jimin has shown him so much more of the world, so much that he never could have seen before. Becky is exciting and lively. Jin is like the friend he never knew he needed in his life. The kids are a beacon of hope for him that maybe someday he won’t hate what he’s become so much. Maybe someday everything he dislikes about his life will become his new normal, and he won’t have to feign happiness all of the time. 

What happened to him cannot be undone. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how much he lost. He doesn’t _want_ to be around them and their normal lives and see the changes that happened-- how close those two have become, how they’ve grown. He doesn’t want to witness the void his disappearance caused, or how they’ve chosen to fill it in. There's an endless list of reasons why he didn't go back to them, and that's a huge one. He knows that to them, he’s gone. And even though his body is physically here still, he did die a certain kind of death. The Hoseok that they knew _is_ dead, and he’ll never be coming back. He’ll have to work hard to convince them and keep them away, but it’s what he _has_ to do. 

Inside his car, he hangs his head in his hands, thoughts swimming in circles. The promise he made himself on Christmas Eve four years ago is one he intends to keep— he won’t go back. He won’t ruin the lives of the people he loves yet again. They don’t need his baggage. They don’t need the chaos he would bring upon his return. They don’t deserve to be touched by death the way he has, and they certainly don’t deserve to be exposed to the horrors he’ll inevitably face. The woman who ruined his life could waltz back in again any moment, and the people in his old life aren’t equipped to handle it or fight back. Never will he put them in danger, never will he be the reason they end up dead… or worse, like him. 

He allows himself to tear up for a moment before he remembers that a safer place to decompress is back home. 

It takes some effort, but he manages to get himself focused enough to make the drive back home without incident. The moments pass in a weird blur the closer he gets to safety; to Jimin’s arms. He’s barely aware of what he’s doing-- parking his car in the garage and taking the lift up to his floor. 

The door to his apartment opens just before his hand can reach the handle, as if Jimin has a sixth sense and _knows_ something is wrong. Then again, Hoseok isn’t due back for a while yet, and he doesn’t typically leave early unless something is wrong, so… no sixth sense, just good hearing. 

Hoseok’s eyes meet Jimin’s inquiring ones, and he feels his anxiety lessen a bit, seeing the warm expression— and moderate worry— on his face. He is safe here. 

“You’re home early. Did something happen?” the blonde asks, grabbing Hoseok’s extended hand, lacing their fingers together before lightly tugging him inside, where he takes initiative to wrap his arms around his torso. Though Hoseok doesn’t have to hide from Jimin, he still finds himself trying to act normal on autopilot. If only it would just go away like a dream. He doesn't want to face what happened today, and would rather exist in denial a little longer. He smiles softly as he reciprocates the touch, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Jimin’s neck. Breathing in his sweet scent helps him further. Being around his own people… this is where he belongs now. He has to protect this life they have. 

“Don’t want talk about it,” he murmurs softly, wincing at the thought of having to explain why he’s so off balance when he’s just gained his footing. “Not yet, at least.” He squeezes his arms around him, enjoying the comfort and reassurance he provides. He releases a sigh before leading him to the couch, feeling a wave of fatigue washing over him. He should probably eat, yet he’s not in the mood. 

God, that's one of the first signs he's going down. Though he shoves the thought away, right there next to the problem he doesn't want to talk about. 

“Mmm… okay, babe,” Jimin says in his airy voice, the one he uses when he’s most relaxed. It’s good to know he’s not too terribly worried, because Hoseok is already a mess and doesn’t need that kind of attention on him right now. Or ever, really. He hates attention on him when he's upset. He'd rather pretend it doesn't exist. 

The two of them lay in silence, enjoying the quiet buzzing of the city below them, and the sound of one another’s breathing. The kids aren’t home yet, so it’s just the two of them. Jimin’s hand eventually wanders up to gently play with his hair, knowing how much it soothes him. It hits him all over again, that connection they share, and the intimacy that comes with it. If he’s not careful with how he handles being investigated by _them,_ he could be the reason they have to leave this life they’ve built here, and the guilt sinks straight to his gut. 

Everywhere he goes, he causes destruction. Like a dog on a leash, the storm clouds follow him without fail. He closes his eyes, willing the thoughts to just stop.

Hoseok adjusts to have his head in Jimin’s lap, giving him better access. The blonde's short fingers massage his scalp absentmindedly, and it isn’t long before Hoseok's eyelids grow heavy with fatigue. Under his touch, he can feel his stress starting to melt away, at least temporarily, and the position he’s laying in is so comfortable and warm. He gives into the urge to nap, though it’s highly unusual for him to do so, because it’s so much easier than being awake with his own poisonous thoughts.

… 

Some time later, he stirs in the same position he fell asleep in, still surrounded by Jimin’s comforting sweet vanilla and orange citrusy scent. His fingers no longer thread through his locks, but one hand rests on his chest comfortingly. Peeling his eyes open, he peers upwards at him. A sleepy smile crosses his lips as he looks at him from this angle. He looks so relaxed and at ease right now. A weird feeling settles over his chest as he stares at him though, like... this won't last much longer. Anxiety swells back inside him, making him chew on his lower lip. 

Jimin, aware of his stirring, sets down his phone with a fond smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he greets. 

“Hey,” Hoseok answers him, adjusting to sit up. “How long was I out?” 

“Mmm, you fell asleep at half past four, so about an hour or so,” the blonde responds thoughtfully. “You looked as if you needed it.” His hand moves from Hoseok’s chest to his chin, while he leans closer, bringing their lips together. 

Hoseok kisses him back reflexively, familiar with the dance of their lips between them. No matter how many times he kisses him, he still feels something drawing him in closer, like a magnet drawn to a whiteboard. His slow, sleepy brain catches up with him as they kiss, though, and he pulls away, just far enough for their lips to part. They really need to talk... even if it disturbs the peaceful atmosphere. 

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Jimin asks, tilting his head back to look at him inquisitively. He's not prepared for the gravity of what he's about to say... But there’s that pull again, urging him to spill all of his secrets and open up. That has always been something he’s been nervous and reluctant to do, even with his closest circle— yet Jimin barely has to try. Like a house of cards blown by the wind, his secrets come down, flowing past his lips effortlessly. It’s been like this ever since the day they met, when Jimin first found him. Hoseok knows why, and yet it never gets old whenever he notices the pull he has towards Jimin.

“I saw… Namjoon and Yoongi,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper. He closes his eyes yet again, as if that could shield him from the onslaught of angst he’s about to face. 

“Oh my god,” Jimin says, his tone giving away how gobsmacked he is by the reveal. Over the years, Jimin has come to know pretty much all there is to know about his old life, including all of his family drama and of course the torch he carried for his previous two roommates. “I’m sorry that happened out of the blue like that. Did you see them whilst at work?” 

He nods slightly, his caramel coloured hair falling forward, brushing his forehead only to be tucked back by Jimin. “Namjoon just… walked into the café. He looked like I’d punched his gut when I greeted him.” Opening his eyes, he chews on his lower lip while he takes in the other's furrowed expression. “I felt like I was the one punched, though. I was so scared I'd reveal myself somehow, but my face stayed neutral."

“Damn, what a blinder. You don’t think he’s been watching you, do you?” Jimin asks, his rich accent growing stronger with worry. His brow creases a bit more. “Blimey, sorry, you must be in shock seeing him so suddenly like that. How are you holding up?” 

The way he suddenly fusses over him, adjusting his collar and checking his cheeks to see if he’s alright endears him so much, despite the pit of anxiety building in his abdomen. He doesn't like what any of this means. He doesn't like the instant dread pooling in the bottom of his heart. He can feel the darkness clawing its way closer towards him... ready to reclaim him at a moment's notice. “Honestly? I’m not sure at all. I don’t know if he meant to find me or if it was an accident…” he trails off, but remembers the look that he wore on his face with devastating detail, and decides his answer. “Actually I doubt that it was intentional— I think if he’d expected to see me, he wouldn’t have stammered so much, or looked so unsettled.” 

“That’s good, I reckon he probably chalked it up to coincidence, then?” he asks, skepticism sinking into his expression. 

“Not exactly. He later came back with Yoongi, and well… they both kind of cornered me into answering some questions. I think I did a fair job maintaining my identity, but… nobody knows me the way they do. I doubt I convinced them.” The fact that he’d lied to their faces haunts him already, and that happened barely three hours ago. Lying to everyone else has been as easy as breathing, but to them… it feels like he betrayed their memories of him. Those two remember him when he stammered and couldn’t meet their eyes whenever he so much as attempted to lie, like he was some real-life Pinocchio. They remember him when he was open to the world, and tried to actively grow close friendships and know people on an intimate level. 

They know him as who he wishes he could be again, and it only digs the nails further into the coffin that he had to lie directly to them. A line has already been crossed… and that’s all the more reason to keep them away. Hoseok will never be the same, and now it’s so much clearer than an abstract concept. It’s laid out in front of him, how much is different now, like a fake copy of a painting placed next to the real thing. Hoseok's canvas is rough, ragged, forever different from the original. No touch ups or redos will ever fix the damage done. 

It’s just… he doesn’t want things to change again. He’s not ready for the changes that are coming. He’s not ready for his life as Hoya to come to an end. If they have to leave this all behind because they're exposed, he knows exactly what the kids would lose. He can’t be the reason they have to move on before they’re ready. Why is he so good at causing damage to the people around him, just by existing? 

He doesn’t like that Namjoon and Yoongi suddenly appear out of nowhere, forcing him to remember a life best forgotten. A life he still mourns, despite the fact that he shouldn’t, despite that he… likes his life as it is now. 

“Hey,” Jimin says, catching his cheeks in both hands and forcing him to meet his gaze. “Are you with me?” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, mentally trying to quiet his thoughts. 

“You’re alright,” he says back softly. “You’ve had one hell of a day, sunshine.” Jimin presses another kiss to his lips, and the sensation is so grounding that he needs more. His arms wrap around the blonde’s waist, and slides his tongue against those plush lips, seeking entry. Jimin’s always so responsive, so ready to give Hoseok what he wants. He understands him, and the battles he has with the demons inside his head. Jimin’s been there, had those fights, and is stronger for it. Maybe that will be Hoseok someday. For now, though, he has this dizzying connection between them to keep him going. 

He hungrily takes charge of their make out and pins the blonde beneath him, loving the desperation rolling off of him with each movement. He doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of the intimacy they share. Hoseok and Jimin may not be in love with one another, exactly, but they do _love_ each other in a way so different from what most people imagine love to be. Their agreements, their clarity is solid ground when everything else is shaking. This kind of relationship, this kind of love is so much safer for the both of them, even if it isn't the love they both want most. Their hearts have suffered so much loss and pain… and they both know it's better like this. 

Hoseok will take good care of that heart if it's the last thing he ever does. 

“I love you, Jiminnie,” he breathes as he pulls back, pressing a kiss to the spot on his neck that he knows earns the best reactions. He smirks as the blonde’s head rolls back, an airy moan escaping those lips now that they aren’t busy with his. Blonde locks fall into his half-lidded eyes, and he looks like heaven to Hoseok. 

“I love you, too,” the other answers once he’s recovered, a hand making it’s way up to tangle in his locks. “Now take me to the bedroom.” 

“Your wish is my command.”

… 

Some time later, when their hunger is satisfied and they’re freshly showered, they head out to the living room to find their two other roommates there, playing Overwatch together on the chaise end of the couch. Jimin and Hoseok agreed that talking to them would be a good idea— chances are everyone Hoseok’s close to will be questioned and needs to be prepared for the possibility. Taehyung and Jungkook will be easiest to loop in first. 

“Hey lovebirds,” Taehyung greets, a cheeky grin on his lips. Clearly the two of them heard everything, though Hoseok is far from shy about it now. He pauses their game, devoting his attention to them. 

“Hey,” Jungkook also greets, patting the spot next to him. “We overheard the two of you saying something about needing to talk. What’s up?” 

Hoseok takes the seat and pulls Jimin into his lap, not wanting to be far from the physical comfort he provides. “Shit happened today,” he starts off bluntly, sighing in frustration. He drags a free hand through his wet hair, attempting to comfort himself. “But the long story short is that two people from my past… they’ve found me. I think it was an accident, but… both of them work as detectives, and didn’t buy my cover story when they spoke to me. I’m sure they’re already checking out my socials and it may not be long before they’re poking around and talking to the people who know me. I’d rather all of you do your best to convince them naturally.” Jimin’s hand moves to rest over the hand he has over his torso, clearly trying to comfort him, too. “No harm should come to them, and if we need to get creative, leave it to me to decide that.” He finally finds the courage to look at the other two in the eyes and sees the instant acceptance at his words. A tension he didn’t know existed releases from him then. 

Why’s he still so tense? Of course Jungkook and Taehyung wouldn’t hurt them. 

But it quickly sinks in that he’s not worried those two will do them harm. 

He’s worried about _her_. 

A chill runs down his entire spine at the mere thought of them crossing paths with _her_. He would never let that happen, or he’d die trying to stop it. 

“Hyung, we got you,” Taehyung says, nodding slightly, a serious look in his gaze. "I'm sorry this happened to you." 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, smiling softly and patting Hoseok’s shoulder gently. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs sincerely, grateful for their support. “I’ll talk to Becky and Jin later tonight, keep them posted. I just want this to be over, so hopefully after a few days of this without anything to keep them going, they’ll drop it.” 

It hurts, he realizes suddenly. It hurts thinking that he’ll be the reason they give up on him. 

Right now, he’s standing at the tip of a forked road. There will be no going back after this point; whatever choice he makes now, he’s going to permanently lose the two people he once loved most. Even if he tried to find his way back to them, there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t hate him as much as he hates himself, anyway. Telling himself that it’s better off that way is the only reason he can actually bring himself to continue pushing them away. 

He finds himself in need of a comfort he can’t find in the arms of anyone. Closing his eyes, he imagines loud music, bass thudding beneath his feet, mirrors, and dim lighting. His safest space is a dance studio now, and that’s exactly where he needs to be. 

“Hoya hyung, are you alright?” Jungkook asks, raising a brow. 

Jungkook is such a sweetheart, and very obviously cares about him, so Hoseok tries to not show his frown, covering it up with a small smile… but he really hates being asked that kind of question. He doesn’t exactly have the words to describe how he is— he’s definitely not good, of course, but “bad” doesn’t even come close to accurate. Anything in between isn’t right, either. So he answers as truthfully as he can. “I will be,” he says seriously. “I think I’m going to go to the studio for a bit before hitting up Jin and Becky.” 

Nobody argues the statement, and Jimin slides off his lap to give him the opportunity to stand up, not passing up the chance to give his cheek a light peck. A ghost of a smile crosses his features for a brief moment. These people here in front of him are so amazing for dealing with all the bullshit he’s brought to their lives. They’ve done so much good for him, given him a reason to live. He loves them all, it’s just… Why doesn’t it feel like enough? Is he so far gone that he won’t ever truly be happy ever again? 

Maybe. 

But he can’t help but wonder what his life would be like if by some miracle he could get back in touch with his old life, his old self. 

The thoughts swimming in his mind don’t stop as he gets ready on autopilot, collecting the things he’ll need at the studio for a late-night dance session. He’s so familiar with the routine now that it barely crosses his mind what he’s doing, he just does it while his mind continues operating on overdrive. He can’t stop thinking about the idea of holding Yoongi and Namjoon again, or kissing his mother’s cheek as she cooks for him, or seeing his sister’s smile as she shows him her most recent designs. How has his father been doing? Has his health improved? And god, is their adorable dog Mickey still alive? The warm and nostalgic result of his imagination makes his soul ache from deep within. His heart that he thought had died feels… homesick. 

Moments later, he finds a spot in the car park and turns the ignition off. A teardrop lands on his hand on the steering wheel, and that’s when he notices that he’s crying. His vision is blurry. 

He doesn’t know what to do with that. He never liked crying— he’s never reached the catharsis it’s supposed to bring. It’s like he has so much pent up emotions that have built up, they leak out of his eyes whenever it gets to be too much, yet… it stays full all the time. Crying won’t lessen the pain or quell the longing in his heart. 

Only action will pull him out of this funk. Dancing. Moving. He can pour those pent up emotions into his movements, use them as gasoline for the fire he becomes on the dancefloor. Every bad thing that ever happened to him can’t touch him here. He can control every muscle in his body with striking precision when he can't control anything else. He can wow an audience… and by doing so, he can control the flow of attention on what he wants people to focus on. They don’t see a broken soul on stage— they see a dancer who’s living his dreams, who’s passionate and hardworking. That’s what Hoseok wants to be. 

For just a short while, he can pretend that's what he is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo what did you think? Any ideas on what happened to our lovely Hoseok? Drop something in the comments below, I adore comments with my whole heart. Thank you for reading and keeping up with this!! <3333
> 
> Also, a note on JiHope & JiHope/Becky: I debated over whether or not to tag this as such, considering Jimin & Hoseok have a very unique dynamic. It's not quite friends with benefits, and it's not quite romantic and certainly won't be an endgame ship by any means. The best way to describe them is platonic soulmates who are pretending to be in love, both for appearances' sake and also personal reasons. That dynamic will be more thoroughly fleshed out later, so please don't let it stop you from reading the fic! And Becky is definitely more along the lines of friends with benefits with the two of them, though she embellishes the relationship as love to the public, too. 
> 
> That's all, friends. Stay tuned for more!


	9. The Entire World Has Gone Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon makes an unsettling discovery, and gets tangled up in an ominous dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo my lovely readers!
> 
> Thank you for all of your support, comments, kudos, and attention! I really love sharing my story with you!! :D
> 
> Just a warning for this chapter, there is quite a lot of **blood (and a death/implied torture)** in the dream part of this chapter, so please prepare yourselves.

Chapter 8: The Entire World Has Gone Crazy (Am I Wrong, BTS)

Kim Namjoon  
Friday, March 06, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

Waking up after everything that’s happened feels like a strange, fever dream. It doesn’t feel real, when his thoughts are mulling over the events of the day in glimpses. Actually this whole trip so far feels like he’s fallen down a rabbit hole, and now he’s been emotionally stretched, shrunk, and shoved into a teapot. The only constant is Yoongi, though his relationship with him is going through a metamorphosis. If you’d have told him just yesterday that he’d be in bed naked with Yoongi not even twenty four hours later, he would probably have had a heart attack. 

But being here feels right for the circumstance. It’s far from perfect, far from ideal for their first time, and yet… it’s fitting. It feels like one roadblock has been lifted, and he’s finally able to move in the right direction with him. He’s never doubted how he feels for Yoongi since he’s realized it. Acting on those feelings is a certain kind of relief, one that he didn’t know he needed until he got it. 

So he doesn’t mind that things are moving this fast. Things happen for a reason, especially when it comes to anything personal and intimate like this. He doesn’t think he would be okay without Yoongi’s touch. Like an IV, it’s giving him the exact nutrients he needs to have in order to function. 

Instead of lingering too much on his thoughts, he decides to just _be._ His roommate’s face looks delicate and innocent as he sleeps. His eyelashes appear longer from the angle Namjoon has, and his nose has such a cute shape and slope to it. He allows his index fingers to caress the features with a feather-light touch, committing the feeling to his memory. His skin is smooth from how well Yoongi cares for it. His lips are deceptively soft, looking as if they’re slightly chapped when they’re not. He wants to feel more of those lips against his, though he settles for the tender brush of his fingertips. The blonde parts them slightly, as if welcoming his touch subconsciously. 

Namjoon smiles softly, fondly, before drifting his touch elsewhere, down the smooth skin of his jawline. He’s so beautiful. Knowing the door is open to this level of intimacy between them, he doesn’t think he could ever walk back out. Not that he would want to, anyway. Right here is the closest thing he’s ever felt to “good” in a long, long time. 

His touch wanders down the baby soft skin of Yoongi’s back, absentmindedly tracing patterns against his skin. Right now, he knows this is the eye of the storm, where the cracks of thunder and gusts of wind can’t touch him. He wants this little moment of peace to never end— knowing the things that are waiting for him once he leaves this bed makes this his sanctuary. He doesn’t want to face the storm yet. He doesn’t know if he’s really ready for it. 

There’s not much of a choice, though. They only have a week in Seattle, and they’ve pretty much used up the first day they had. There’s probably plenty of daylight left, but… their energy levels for the day are definitely low. Namjoon sits up, glancing at the clock on his phone. It’s half past two, confirming his conclusion. What do they do for the rest of the day? As much as he enjoys basking in Yoongi’s warmth and smooth skin, he doesn’t think he could spend the entire day in bed. Already he’s feeling the urge to get up again, to do something. 

Biting his lower lip, he considers finding Hoya on social media. After all, Yoongi and Namjoon already agreed to investigate him, and this would be an easy way to do that, right?

He adjusts himself, wiggling away from Yoongi enough to reach his laptop, which is sitting on the nightstand next to him, and sit up. He could probably do this on his phone, but he prefers doing research on his laptop when the choice is present. Once it's powered on and connected to the hotel's wifi, he taps on the browser icon. He decides to start with facebook, considering it'll have the most information provided he can find Hoya on it. Though Namjoon doesn’t know Hoya’s last name, he’s fairly certain he can find him without too much trouble. He searches Koku Café first, and it’s as easy as that: he finds a picture of all the baristas who work there, tagging Hoya. 

His last name is Park. 

Namjoon’s not sure why that bothers him— Hoya Park isn’t by any means a bad name. It’s a common Korean family name. Logically he knows all that, yet it still feels wrong and foreign on his lips. Maybe he’s not so convinced this isn’t Hoseok as he thought. What would he have done if his last name had been Jung? Of course it isn’t, though, because if this is Hoseok, having a fake last name be his real name wouldn’t make any sense. 

Swallowing the bitter taste settling on his tongue, he checks out his profile. The first thing Namjoon notices is how startlingly Hoseok-like Hoya looks in the header image. His smile looks completely genuine, entirely unlike how he looked when they spoke earlier. The picture brings Namjoon back to the day Hoseok graduated high school-- the green grass, the way his hair is parted, and the heart-shaped smile on his lips. His heart aches in nostalgia, and he can't bare to look at it any longer, so he shifts his gaze to the profile image. His picture is a selfie, fairly recent considering his hair looks identical to what he saw today. The intro to his profile says, “Passionate for dance, music, and my two SOs.”

He reads the words a few times, a weird feeling settling over his chest. Dance? That checks out with Hoseok. Though he never got to pursue that dream, he was always moving if there was a beat to follow. That leads into music— another check. Hoseok started off helping Namjoon with composing songs when they were teens, hanging out in one of their garages, and it eventually evolved into something they did with Yoongi. Music was a sort of catharsis for all of them, especially if they chose to rap. Lastly, he mulls over the last part of the sentence. Two SOs… while those words make him feel a multitude of things, they don’t count against Hoya being Hoseok. If anything, they check the “Hoseok-like” column, too. If those words mean what he thinks they do, then Hoya is also polyamorous. Could his two SOs be in the header image? 

His heart skips a beat at the realization, before picking up its pace inside his chest. This can’t be a coincidence. 

He fights the urge to wake Yoongi up, wanting to know all information he possibly can from the public page before doing so. His work at Koku is listed, and a previous job at a dance studio. None of this information is particularly remarkable… until he reads the relationship status. 

Married to Jimin Park. 

The word “married” bounces around his head for a few moments while he grapples with the concept that Hoya is _married_. The implications of that have him reeling for another minute. If Hoseok is Hoya, then… who is Jimin Park? He feels as if the world is just a globe, tilted on the wrong axis and spinning as fast as it can. None of these things make sense. Hoya being so similar to Hoseok makes no sense. Hoya’s appearance being only marginally different from his childhood best friend is no coincidence. Except what changed, exactly? What happened to him? Is it possible that all of these things really are coincidences? 

The detective in him screams that there’s no way. There are no coincidences in an investigation. It’s just that he needs _proof_. Right now everything is entirely circumstantial. A fingerprint or blood sample would be the ideal way to know for sure. How does he acquire either of those, though? He could probably order from the café again, except Hoya wouldn’t be the only one touching his order. Earlier today he never even touched Namjoon’s phone screen. 

Is that suspicious? 

Absolutely. 

The biggest question, though, is what happened to Hoseok, if he is Hoya? Why wouldn’t he come home? Has he been hurt? Though he appeared fine, seemingly at work. All of the worst-case scenarios that are typical for a disappearance like his don’t seem to fit. Common scenarios include sex-trafficking and gang activity, maybe drugs. But Hoya's profile is so... ordinary. He doesn't look like anything other than a typical young adult living in downtown Seattle. If he has been involved in any of those things... he's damn good at hiding it. 

He stews in thought for a bit, his mind trying to process a whole bunch of scenarios. None of them fit. It’s like he’s the steward in Cinderella, trying to find the right fit for the fragile glass slipper in his clumsy hands. 

Maybe he’s being distracted by the big picture, and a bunch of large, vague concepts. Maybe he can’t see clearly because looking at him makes it hard to see anything but Hoseok. The details are what require his attention. If Hoya has a husband, maybe taking a look at him will shed some light on Hoya, and his life here, so some of the explanations on his mind can take shape. He taps on the link to Jimin Park’s profile. 

He’s also a dancer, given the picture he has set as his header image. His intro is blank, except the male dancer and star emojis. More of his profile is viewable to the public than Hoya’s, though it’s still not much. He’s an owner of a nightclub downtown, (which is definitely sketchy as hell), and apparently went to the University of Washington, so that’s likely where Hoya went, too. He also displays his relationship status, and has a cute picture of Hoya and him wearing matching hoodies set as his profile picture.

He doesn’t give off creepy vibes in the slightest despite being a nightclub owner. Namjoon can’t tell if he’s older or younger than Hoya, but he definitely looks to be about the same age as him. Either he’s really smooth and has a carefully crafted social image, or he’s harmless. 

While it's strange that he's the owner of a club and so young, Namjoon just can't picture him as some sort of mafia boss or linchpin, or human trafficker. If anything, he looks like a chaebol from a Korean drama. Namjoon isn't the type to go off of feelings, though... he follows the facts. It's possible that this _Jimin Park_ is a figurehead, or the son of someone sketchy. He can't be ruled out as a suspect just yet. 

Hoseok’s case has always been such a head scratcher, full of nothing but giant question marks. What did he hit? Nobody knows. Why was there so much blood? Deduction: stabbing. Why would some stab him? Nobody knows. Where is he now? Nobody knows. Why did he end up leaving the party late, when he left before Yoongi and Namjoon? Nobody knows. Now Hoya shows up, and there are just more questions without answers. Assuming Hoya is Hoseok, why wouldn’t he come home? Why does he have this seemingly fulfilling life here? Why Seattle of all places? What even happened to him…? Does he remember them…? Where did the British accent come from? Is he just being ridiculous and seeing what he wants to see because he misses his best friend? 

He bites down on his lower lip a little too hard, enough to taste blood and iron on his tongue. He sighs, hoping the sound isn’t enough to wake Yoongi. He doesn’t want to wake him up with yet another piece of bad news. He's barely done any research whatsoever and already feels exhausted, emotionally and physically. 

Shutting his laptop in frustration, he decides to block it out. He laysback down and rests his arm over Yoongi’s lower back, soaking up the comfort he brings just by existing. Things with him are so easy, like breathing, and just as necessary, too. Namjoon knows he doesn’t grow close to people like this easily. He keeps to himself, doesn’t open up to outsiders. When he let Yoongi in all those years ago, he had no clue then just how important he would become, how much he would love him. 

Despite their years of sharing an apartment and working together, building a life together, Namjoon feels guilty because… for him, it’s still not quite enough on its own. Hoseok is the missing piece, and it dawns on him how unfair it is to indulge in this kind of relationship with Yoongi alone when he still feels like that. He needs to talk to Yoongi, needs to tell him he’s not over Hoseok and may never be. He doesn’t think he would mind if the tables were turned-- if Yoongi still has feelings for Hoseok, but that doesn't mean Yoongi would be okay with him still having those kinds of feelings for Seok... but he never really had problems with Hoseok being polyamorous. 

Namjoon should have known he was in love with them both years ago. If he had, would things be different? Would the three of them taken the same car home that night? 

Useless. It’s useless to think like this. He’ll just bring himself down again. 

He quietly scoffs at that thought, though. He’s been down all day, except for the morning before he went to Koku, and while he and Yoongi were fucking. 

Moments later, exhausted from the overthinking, he finds himself feeling heavy, sleepy yet again. It's like the comfort Yoongi provides is some sort of spell, relaxing him and pulling him downwards, away from his own negative thoughts. Namjoon doesn’t often dream vividly, yet this evening, he does dream with striking detail. 

Bright fluorescent lights blind him for a moment, before his vision adjusts to the brightness and he sees where he is… a big, empty, decrepit looking warehouse. The metal walls are painted a dark navy blue, with paint chipping off in various places. Some parts are rusted over. He looks around, not seeing an exit anywhere. Just hallways. Not a single window is along the walls, just the ribbed framework of this tattered industrial buidling. He's completely alone, and gets the feeling that there's nobody inside this building whatsoever. 

A strange sense of panic settles in as he comes to the realization that he’s trapped. Trying to avoid giving into the feeling, he walks to the beginning of the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the eerie quiet of the warehouse. His breath steams the frigid air as he walks, wishing he could hear something, anything other than his own breathing and footsteps. The more he walks, the less he likes what he sees. 

He turns a corner and sucks in a sharp breath. It’s a dead end. Weird suspenders hang from the ceiling, and he sees a large pool of blood on the floor beneath them. It looks fresh, but there isn’t a trail at all. No body lays on the floor around it. As if he's following a siren’s call, Namjoon kneels down to take a closer look at it, entranced by it. His fingers touch it, as if they have a will of their own. Upon touching it, he feels as if he’d been electrocuted. For a moment, he sees a fleeting vision of a knife being thrown into his stomach, and he lets out a startled noise as he recoils away from the gruesome sight.

This is _his_ blood, he realizes anxiously. He looks down at his stomach and sees scarlet red blood soaking his shirt. Confused and disoriented, he tries to stand up straight only for the whole world to spin. The navy blue walls blur together with the dirty yellow suspenders and black dots dancing across his vision. He braces himself against the wall beside him, shivering at the freezing cold temperature and closing his eyes in order to collect himself. He can’t stay here, or he's going to die. 

The panic kicks his fight or flight instincts into gear, and since there isn't anything to fight, the energy is used to move. He forces himself to get up, despite his body screaming in protest with every muscle. This time when he opens his eyes, he lets them adjust and focus for a minute before taking a closer look along all of the walls. It looks like there might be an opening further down. If he can just make it there, he thinks he can get out. His whole body moves sluggishly, but step by echoing footstep, he reaches his destination. A groan of frustration leaves his lips as he nears it, though.

It’s not an exit. It’s just a fucking mirror.

For a moment, he stares at his own reflection, how beaten and bloody he looks. There's a deep purple bruise on the right side of his neck, and his face looks swollen as if he'd been hit hard on his jaw. His lip glistens with a trail of blood trickling down the corner. His hands look angry and bruised. He’s not sure why he looks like this, can’t remember what caused the wounds or how he got where he is now, he just knows he needs to _get out._

Glancing back, he knows there isn’t anywhere else to go. He can feel his heartbeat racing with panic inside his chest. He needs to leave, he needs to get out of here. His gaze goes back to the mirror in front of him, and he tries to ignore the fear in his own eyes. His bloody fingertips touch the mirror, a look of confusion furrowing his brows. There is a strange sense of knowing he’s in the right place. This is where he’s supposed to go. He can't explain it, it's just pure instinct. 

The glass of the mirror is cold to the touch, firm and solid. He knocks on it tentatively, the sound ringing in the echoey hall. A small smile crosses his lips-- it sounds like there’s nothing on the other side. Bracing himself, he steps back before throwing his body, shoulder first, to the glass. It shatters all around him, and he falls forward through it, landing sideways onto a harsh, ice cold concrete floor. A shiver runs down his spine as he tries to stop his vision from spinning again by squeezing his eyes shut. The stinging pain in his shoulder is likely due to a fragment of the mirror embedding itself there, causing him to let out a low whine. 

Dazed and hurting all over, he forces himself to roll over onto his back and sit up. He coughs up some blood, noticing the scarlet colour contrasting heavily with the grey of the concrete when he finds the strength to open his eyes. Will he get through this? He doesn’t know. 

“Namjoon?” the familiar voice of Yoongi asks in a small, horrified voice. 

“Hyung?” he asks, tilting his head up to see his roommate. 

“Oh fuck,” he mutters in horror, his hands instantly finding just the right spots to support him without agitating any of his wounds. Yoongi lifts him and guides him away from the shattered glass on the floor. “You’re hurt really bad,” he comments. The blonde man lays him down flat on his back and kneels down at his side, lifting his shirt to inspect the largest wound, not wasting a single second to apply pressure with his bare hands. “We need to stop the bleeding. Stay with me, okay? Stay.” 

Namjoon nods, though his vision is growing darker with every passing moment. Just barely, he manages to hold onto consciousness while Yoongi undoes his belt and strips off his jacket, folding the former into a hasty square of padding. He slips the belt underneath Namjoon's back, adjusting him as carefully as he can in the process, before placing the folded up jacket over the wound and tightening the belt securely over it. With the firm pressure on the wound, he can feel the bleeding slowing, though he doesn't feel any better pain-wise. 

A wave of gratefulness washes over him, and not just because the blonde patched him up, either. It's because he's no longer alone in this cruel, strange place. With Yoongi at his side, he knows he can get through anything. He didn't have hope before, but he does now, despite the foggy vision and excruciating pain. 

“What happened to you?” Yoongi asks, brushing his silvery hair from his face with the back of his hand, the side that isn’t covered in blood. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I am really confused, hyung.” He must be more panicked than he thought, because his voice sounds so, so small to his own ears, and air is hard to come by. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he says, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he takes his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “This is only a dream, we’ll both be okay.” 

A dream? Oh, that makes sense. But this feels so _real_. 

“How do we get out?” he asks nervously, focusing his gaze on the man by his side. His vision may be blurry and dark, but seeing him gives him strength. 

“I’m not sure. Until you busted in here, I wasn’t so sure there was a way in or out,” Yoongi answers, his voice more withdrawn than he’s ever heard him sound. “I think I’m going to break us out. You lay here and rest for a moment, okay?” 

Namjoon wants to protest, but the words never go past his lips. Even if this is a dream, he’s not well enough to move just yet. He can’t explain it, but he feels like if they don’t get out, something bad will happen, something worse than he’s already experienced. A shiver runs down his spine again, but he nods this time. Not even a second later, he’s missing Yoongi’s warmth. From the angle he’s at, he can’t see much of the room, but he does see a decrepit piano with a bench and a guitar leaning against it. Both instruments are coated in dust. There’s not much else to see in this room. The walls are tattered and falling apart in some places, the drywall crumbling into piles on the concrete floor. 

Yoongi goes to one side, inspecting a few spots of crumbling dry wall, halting at a particularly big hole. As if it’s rigged, a burst of flames erupts from the room on the other side of the hole, causing the silver haired man to hiss in pain, reeling back at having been burned. The whole wall lights up in flames instantly, so dry and ready to turn to ash. “Fuck,” his roommate groans, taking a few steps backwards. “We really need to get out of here,” he says frantically, his head whipping around to find any other means of escape. 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say. Normally his brain would be constantly turning over possibilities in his head, hard wired for plausible ideas. Right now, though, it’s like his brain is foggy and out of focus. Probably due to blood loss, if he had to hazard a guess. In just a minute, his body no longer feels like it’s cold, freezing to death. It’s being overwhelmed by heat of the wildfire, and the rapid change in temperature makes him feel kind of sick. “Yoongi, I’m not feeling good,” he manages to say as he attempts to sit up. “You should leave me here.” 

His roommate looks furious as he leans over him, grabbing his chin intently and says, “Not going to fucking happen. Don’t you dare talk like that. We’ll get out of this, just hold on.” He lets go of his chin, and Namjoon doesn’t have the energy to argue or fight. He just slumps back on the ground, though he’s full of fear that Yoongi won’t get out of here trying to save him, too.

The flames engulf more than half of the room now, causing the air to be thick with smoke and bits of ash as it rips its way towards them. The temperature is boiling hot, causing a sheen of sweat to coat his skin. It hurts to keep his eyes open in the hazy air and it's so much easier to give into the fatigue caused by the pain from all of the injuries. He can hear the darkness calling his name, urging him to just give into it. 

But moments later, he hears a loud crash and the sound of drywall crumbling somewhere to his left. It's enough to catch his attention, at least. Peeling his eyes back open, he sees the hole Yoongi must have created using the piano bench. Not wasting a single second, the blonde comes back over to Namjoon and helps lift him up, though he winces and groans at the way the movement tugs on his abdomen. 

Now that he's up, he desperately tries to regain functionality, not wanting to slow them down at all. The two of them stumble their way towards their makeshift exit, both panting heavily as they cross the threshold, just barely in time to escape the flames licking at their skin.

The next room they’re in is so dimly lit it may as well be pitch black. After the blaze of the fire, it’s hard to get his eyes to adjust. The two of them stand there for a few moments, catching their breath and letting their lungs recover from the burn of the fire. Namjoon can't keep himself upright for long though, and ends up slumping back against Yoongi, guilt flooding his hazy brain. Once their vision finally adjusts, Namjoon can see small squares lining the wall. After a moment, they glitter with pale white light, reminiscent of phones turning on after being turned off. It's not much light at all, but it's enough to give him an idea of where they are. They’re standing not in a room, but a hallway. Empty black picture frames hang all around the walls, and the air is freezing cold again. This place is just as eerie and unsettling as the warehouse he started in. 

It’s like they’re trapped in some kind of twisted version of Wonderland. The rooms change and evolve as they leave each one, not making any sense logically or connecting in an understandable way. 

He shivers against Yoongi. They need to find somewhere safe soon. This doesn’t feel like it’s a good spot to stop, either.

“I’m getting really bad vibes,” he mutters under his breath, tightening his hold on Yoongi with what little strength he has. 

“Me too,” the blonde agrees, leading them to press onwards. Each step enflames his wound, but he tries not to show it. They reach the end of the hall, and they both still at seeing what’s written in on the torn up wallpaper of the wall just before the corner.

 _Save me,_ it says, in unmistakably Hoseok’s handwriting… written in blood. The scratches on the walls look like they’ve been done by a person, clawing at the walls desperate to get out. The idea of Hoseok being the one to do this makes that familiar ache in his heart worsen. Will he finally learn what happened to him? A sense of dread washes over his heart. He doesn't want to witness what happened, doesn't want to know those horrors in detail, but... he needs to. The only way to know is to keep going. It seems as if both of them come to the same conclusion at once. With renewed drive, they round the corner, though Yoongi is certainly holding back in order to not push Namjoon too hard.

As if they’ve crossed another threshold when they pass the words on the wall, the walls and floor begin to quake beneath their feet. Some of the picture frames from the previous hallway clatter to the ground. Both he and Yoongi instinctually run forward, just in time, though his whole body strains in protest. The ground behind them gives way, falling to a dark as night abyss down below. Every few steps they take forward, more of the ground behind them falls away and the dizzier Namjoon becomes. The hallway in front of them seems to stretch on endlessly, no turns or end in sight. The sound of the floor crashing to whatever is beneath them rings in his ears. It's by pure adrenaline that he finds the strength to keep going. His lungs burn as he inhales, trying to get enough oxygen to his limbs to keep going, to get them out of danger.

Finally, an end comes in sight. The two of them reach a doorway. There’s nothing fancy about it, it’s just a plain doorway. It’s older, wooden with paint chipping away, but it is full of promise compared to the hallway. They run right into it with Yoongi in the lead, tumbling into a room with thankfully solid ground... ground that Namjoon hits hard. 

With a grunt, Yoongi picks himself up from the floor. Namjoon struggles to sit up and leans back against the door with Yoongi's help, appreciating that there’s not even a slight tremble in the ground. Every muscle in his body hurts, and his stomach is the worst of all. Is this the kind of pain Hoseok felt that night? He can feel the blood soaking the coat that Yoongi wrapped around him as a temporary tourniquet. His vision has white spots dancing across it. He’s not sure he’ll be able to move again at all. 

“Namjoon,” he hears Yoongi murmur. He can feel his touch on his cheek, but he feels so disconnected from it all. “Joon-ah, are you with me?” 

His voice is wrought with worry and fear. Namjoon feels bad that he was the one to cause it. Though he can feel his touch, he sounds distant and far away. Not a good sign. He can't find the ability to respond, like all of his muscles are striking against his will. 

“No, no, no, don’t pass out on me now,” the blonde mumbles, distressed. “I can’t lose you, too. Please don’t let me lose you. I love you." A hand tilts his chin upwards, and his lips meet Namjoon’s, as if this was nothing but a fairy tale where true love’s kiss solves every life-threatening problem. Even though Namjoon's senses are all out of whack, he can taste the saltiness of tears against his own lips, and wishes he could take his worries and fears away. He doesn't want to fail Yoongi, though his eyes fall closed. Death is calling his name, promising peace and numbness from all of the pain. _I can't hold on anymore, I'm sorry, Yoongi. I love you, too,_ he thinks, just when it feels like everything is at its end and all energy has left him.

Except… strangely, his senses are coming back, starting with a tingling sensation in his lips. It’s like he can _feel_ Yoongi giving him life, healing him, like some sort of guardian angel. His pain begins melting away like frost on a dewy spring morning. It starts with soothing the pain in his stomach but doesn't stop there. Breathing becomes easier with every exhale, and the soreness in his shoulder dulls. He slowly manages to reciprocate the kiss, cupping Yoongi’s cheeks like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. He parts his lips to welcome him in, tilting his head to give him more access. 

Yoongi gives into the kiss for just a moment before pulling back, his brows furrowing in confusion but he also looks so, so, so relieved. “Joon?” he asks, looking him in the eyes as if he’s searching for something. 

Namjoon could stare at those eyes all day long, except they don’t have the time for that right now. “I’m… weirdly okay,” he says softly, brushing his thumb over the other man’s cheek. “Thanks to you, somehow.”

He doesn’t look like he believes him, and pulls away to look at his wound. It’s no longer spilling blood. To prove it, Namjoon yanks off the temporary tourniquet and lifts his shirt. Yoongi gasps, fingers tentatively touching the flesh that was once brutally cut and bleeding that is now smoother than before. “I don’t know how that happened, but thank fuck you’re okay.” 

The words cause the brunette to let out a laugh. “I’m not sure either, but I’m glad, too.” 

Now that he feels better, he’s able to take in his surroundings again. The walls around them are entirely whitish grey concrete, but there’s an opening ahead with a waterfall. It doesn’t look like there’s anywhere to go this time. Though he’s unsettled at the idea of being trapped in such a strange space, he’s okay with having a moment to recover from nearly dying such a painful death. It feels like he’s missing the meaning behind everything he’s gone through, but there’s far too much to sift through for him to do it right now. He’s still reeling from it all, and just wants to appreciate the fact that he doesn't hurt so much anymore. 

“Where do we go now?” he asks, though he’s not ready to move yet. 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi murmurs, his head in his hands. “I just want to wake up.” 

“Are you sure this is a dream?” Namjoon asks, looking up above him and letting his hand run over the smooth concrete of the wall beside him. “Everything feels so real.” He can feel the texture of the cold, cold wall and smell the salt in the air. He can clearly see the details in Yoongi's clothes and face, entirely different from his usual dreams where everything is full of exclusively visual and auditory senses, all in low definition compared to this. 

“It’s got to be… I have a lot of dreams like this,” he confesses. “I’m almost always aware of when I’m dreaming. I just… don’t know why you’re in this dream. Normally in these kinds of dreams, I’m alone. I never want to see you hurt like that ever again.” He sounds so… depressed. Namjoon takes his hand, reveling in the familiar, comforting feeling. He hopes it reaches him, too, because he's not sure what to say that will bring him any comfort. 

“I’m always here for you, Yoongs. Always," he says firmly, giving his hand a tight squeeze to accompany the words. 

"You almost died," he says, his lower lip trembling with fear. His eyes still shine with unshed tears. Namjoon knows that if the tables had been turned and it'd been him who witnessed Yoongi like that, it would take him hours to recover. But they don't have that kind of time. 

"I didn't, though, because you saved me. I trust that you will always find a way, and I will always fight to stay by your side," the brunette answers, his voice tender this time. "Now c’mon, let’s get out of here,” he says, standing up on his own and gently helping his shaken roommate up off the floor. He's grateful that he can be the one offering support to him this time. 

Yoongi nods warily, and keeps their hands locked while he scans the area. Namjoon follows his gaze, trying to figure out the next way forward. The blonde lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his free hand through his hair. Everything in here is so empty. All there is in the entire room is a broken lantern that sits on the ground, laying in a pile of fine, soft looking sand, and the flowing waterfall with a pool of shallow water beneath it. With such an empty room and the pale white colour, he can't shake off the eerie feeling here, either. His eyes fall back down to the only thing of any colour... the broken lantern. He bends down and nudges the pieces around with his index finger, picking up a piece of it, careful to avoid the glass. It reminds him of something he can't quite place, puzzling him. 

“Hmm…” Yoongi hums, looking over the pieces in Namjoon’s hands. “I think I know where we need to go, come with me.” 

Nodding, Namjoon drops the lantern, not bothering to be careful since it’s already broken. It clatters to the ground as he follows Yoongi forward, so close to the waterfall that he can feel cold, wet spray against his cheek. The sound is peaceful, if not a little ominous. Seconds later, he can hear something that sounds like two rocks sliding over one another. A stone archway and tunnel manifests underneath the waterfall, appearing out of nowhere like it’s made of magic. Without any other options, the two of them carry on, moving forward into the unknown together yet again. 

They both get drenched with bone-chillingly cold water as they pass under the spray, shivering to regain warmth. With every step, they splash water around slightly, though the pool is quite shallow. His feet are so cold, he thinks that it won't take long for them to go numb. The tunnel is dark with nothing to light it but they keep pressing onward since going backwards isn't an option. A few moments pass, until they hear something faintly in the distance. 

Shouting? 

He and Yoongi share a look before quickening their pace. It’s too dangerous to run, especially for Namjoon with his clumsiness, but they move as fast as they can, chilly water sloshing around his feet. A sense of urgency takes over them both, and they rush forwards. The closer they get, the more audible the shouting is... and the more recognizable the voice. 

“Help!” the voice shouts, still sounding way too far away, too muffled and distant. Namjoon can vaguely hear some thumping. “Somebody, anybody, please. Get me out of here!”

With a start, he realizes it's _Hoseok_. His heartbeat races frantically inside his chest. Hoseok needs him, needs _them_. He pleads for him to be okay, and nearly trips in his urgency to reach the end of whatever tunnel they’re in at the moment. Yoongi lets go of his hand, since he’s faster, and pulls ahead. Finally, Namjoon can see a light up ahead-- a torch by the looks of it. It illuminates a small staircase is ahead of them, one that leads up to a small wooden doorway. 

Now he can clearly hear the pounding on the door, can even see the slim handle jiggling from this side as someone--Hoseok-- tries to open it from the other side. The door is locked. _Of course_ it’s locked, when just _right fucking there_ is the one person he’s been searching for for years. No way is a locked door going to get in his way. Not after the hell they’ve faced to get here, to get to him. 

“Hoseok!” Yoongi yells back, slamming his whole body against the door. A second later, Namjoon is, too, syncing his time with his roommate’s. “Hold on, we’ll get you out. Just hold on!” 

Sobs. Oh god. He can hear Hoseok sobbing on the other side, an agonizing sound that hurts so much worse than the stab wound he felt earlier. “Please don’t hurt her, just stop. Stop, I’ll do whatever you want,” he begs to someone. Another thump, this time not against the door, but more like someone falling over. 

The sound breaks his heart. He doesn’t know what’s going on on the other side of this door, but he’s scared to find out... and also livid. His vision is going red with rage at _whoever who is hurting him._ “Hoseok! We’re here,” he shouts, angry at the fucking door that’s seemingly made of steel. It won’t budge. 

There’s no acknowledgement from Hoseok on the other side, like he can’t hear them at all. Yoongi yells in frustration at the door, opting to kick it hard with the heel of his foot. The door shakes, but otherwise is unscathed. 

There’s no response to Hoseok’s pleas from whoever’s on the other side with him. Namjoon doesn’t even hear _him_ for a moment and begins to panic. That’s when the screams start, making his stomach plunge. Hearing Hoseok scream at random spiders or when he’s startled has always been really cute to him, but this? This is terrifying. This sound makes him downright _murderous_ at whoever caused it. He can feel his blood boiling underneath his skin as he curls his fits, so tight he can feel his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands. 

He’s not the only one affected by it, either. Yoongi collapses to his knees, angry tears in his eyes. He throws a punch at the door, furious but out of options. “We’ve got to do something,” he says, his voice breaking. “We’ve got to save him.” 

Namjoon nods before letting out an angry huff of pure frustration. That’s when it hits him, what the top piece of the lantern reminded him of. A key. 

“Hyung, I’ll be right back. Keep trying.”

He turns around on his heels and takes off, back down the way they came. He doesn’t care that he could trip, or fall, or get hurt. It doesn’t matter if he can’t get to Hoseok. The desperation gives him the speed he needs to make it to the lantern, using his shaking hands to take it apart. His suspicions are confirmed, the top is a key. Without hesitation, he turns back around and ducks through the waterfall again, shivering as his body is met with ice-cold water for the third time. He tries to tune out the horrible sound of Hoseok’s cries that are growing quieter, but finding it impossible to do so the closer he gets to the door way. He doesn’t know what it means that they’re growing quiet. When he comes back, Yoongi steps aside, a distraught look on his face. 

Hoseok is silent now, and god, if that doesn’t make him feel the biggest sense of ice-cold dread, nothing will. 

His fingers clamber with the door handle and the key, unlocking it. His breathing is rapid and shallow as he pushes the door open. Inside, it’s just as dark as the concrete tunnel, except there’s another light somewhere on the other side, bathing everything in a dim, yellow light full of shadows.

At first, he can only see piles of junk everywhere. It looks like old carnival equipment, some decorations and pieces of broken down rides in various colours. Everything is coated in a thick layer of dust and grime. He trips on something as he walks inside, nearly falling if not for Yoongi catching him by the waist and steadying him. Looking down at his feet, he sees that it's a horrifying jack-in-the-box clown with an eye missing. 

Were they wrong, and Hoseok isn’t here? 

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he’s proven wrong. In the center of the floor up ahead lays Hoseok, curled into the fetal position, not moving and covered in blood. He’s wearing a dingy white button down shirt, the same he wore the night he disappeared. His hair is just as red. Not even a heartbeat later, Yoongi and Namjoon are by his side. Yoongi’s long fingers press against his neck, and Namjoon’s ear is on his chest. 

“Please be alive, please be alive,” he mumbles to himself as he listens, hoping to get any small sign. Moments pass with him holding his breath in anticipation, clinging desperately to the small hope he had...

Except his heart isn’t beating and he’s not breathing. 

He wastes no time, moving Hoseok onto his back and placing his hands on his chest, pumping his heart for him using the CPR training he was taught years ago. 

One... two... three... 

He leans down, pinching the redhead's nose shut and connects his lips with Hoseok's, desperately hoping he'll _breathe_. His chest inflates with Namjoon's breath, but he doesn't inhale on his own. 

One... two... three... He puts everything he has into the chest compressions, not letting his mind form any sort of thought.

Again, he breathes for Hoseok, tasting the salt of his own tears before pulling back, listening for a heartbeat that never comes. 

One... two... three...

One... two... three...

_Still nothing._

One... two... three... Breathe. One... two... three... Another inhale, another exhale into his mouth.

One... two... three... _Nothing._

Time feels like it’s at a standstill while it dawns on him what those things mean. And there’s so much blood, it makes Namjoon feel sick. There’s so much more here than the pool of his own blood earlier. And he can see exactly where it came from, due to the starkly white shirt soaked in the red colour. To his horror, there's a knife wound in the same place as Namjoon had earlier, only it looks deeper than his was, and it's not the only one. Now that he's not in the fetal position anymore, Namjoon can see the stab wound in his left thigh. There are dark purple bruises shaped like hand marks wrapped around his neck... and deep gashes on both of his wrists, right over the veins. Were those... self-inflicted? _No, no they can't be._ Bile rises from his stomach at the thought, though, but he holds it back. Hoseok's cheeks are still wet with tears, and the blood… all of it’s still warm. Yoongi's holding Hoseok's hand with both of his, tears rolling down his cheeks as he kisses his hand. 

They’re too late. 

Oh god.

_Hoseok is dead._

They were too late to save him.

His best friend, the person who shined like the sun, the person he grew up with, the person who gave him so much hope and inspiration is **dead.**

He does get sick this time, retching to the other side, the one not occupied by Hoseok’s body. 

And he startles awake, wrenched from the dream so suddenly he feels disoriented when his eyes open. His whole body is covered in a cold sweat. His heartbeat is erratic in his chest as he looks around, getting his bearings. He can taste the bile on his tongue, but he holds it back. White walls and curtains are visible, so different from any of the places he was in the dream. This is his hotel room. In Seattle. He's safe now.

Yoongi is shaking slightly, off to his right, still asleep from the looks of it, and the sight brings him some moderate comfort. It's still not enough, though.

Namjoon doesn’t feel better knowing that it was just a dream. It felt way too real. The image of Hoseok bathed in blood… with slit wrists... will haunt him forever. He still feels just as sick as he did in his dream, and he can feel the bile fighting to rise just as it did in his dream. He throws the covers off of himself, grateful Yoongi must have moved in his sleep so he doesn’t disturb him as he runs to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to throw up what little is inside his stomach. 

He’s so out of it that he startles slightly when he feels a hand on his back, soothing and gentle. He relaxes slightly, and gradually, he stops throwing up. His mouth tastes horrible, and he feels thoroughly exhausted. 

If that’s how bad Yoongi’s nightmares normally are, he can’t believe that he’s capable of being a functional human being every day. Namjoon feels like that dream took everything away from him... all of his hope, all of his energy. It makes him realize how much is hanging in the balance. He shakes as he recovers, resting his head on his own arm at the edge of the toilet. He doesn't think he has anything more to throw up, but his stomach is still in knots and he doesn't have the energy to move yet. 

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs, still stroking his back comfortingly. “Why don’t you brush your teeth, and I’ll get you a glass of water,” he suggests, meeting his gaze as Namjoon nods weekly, trying to sit up straight. The blonde presses a small kiss to his forehead before helping him up, reminding him of how he held his weight for so much of the dream. 

Why is Namjoon so weak? He feels so mad at himself. He’s seen all kinds of horrible things and situations doing the work he does. He’s helped sexually abused kids get away from their abusers. He’s taken down sex trafficking rings. He's seen his fair share of crime scenes and dead bodies. Yet seeing Hoseok like that, even if it was only a sick, twisted manifestation from his imagination in a dream hits him where it hurts most. He misses him so much, and to see him like that… to see him dead… he’s never going to be okay with that. 

He begins crying as he brushes his teeth, despite how hard he’s trying to keep it together. What the hell does he even say to Yoongi? He could tell him about the nightmare, he would absolutely understand that. But Namjoon also is so tired of today being so miserable. Talking about it may just perpetuate it all, and draw things out. The conflict doesn't go away as he rinses his mouth, and exits the bathroom. 

A glass of ice water waits for him on the desk, and Yoongi sits curled up in the chair next to the window, staring out the window at the downpour of rain onto the Seattle streets. His gaze looks so lost, so far away… so melancholy. 

Maybe there’s no changing the mood for the night. In a way, he's grateful that he has a chance to talk about it, to get it off his chest. He's never felt this shaken, at least, not from a dream of all things. He takes the glass and drinks from it, gulping the water down greedily as he takes a seat in the chair next to Yoongi’s. Though Namjoon wants to share what happened in his nightmare, he wants to check on him first. “Hyung… are you okay?” he asks tenderly. 

Yoongi shakes his head a little and meets Namjoon’s gaze. He’s been crying, too. “I… had a nightmare. It was a bad one. Really bad.” His voice is trembling slightly, and he curls himself tighter into a ball, hugging his legs close. 

“Me too,” Namjoon says, swallowing nervously. Of course the two of them would have a horrifying nightmare at the same time. “It was so bad, I woke up feeling sick. I’ve never had a dream that felt so real before.” His hand shakes as he sets down his now empty glass on the windowsill. The water helped calm him down, though his stomach is still churning.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yoongi asks, his gaze softening as he focuses his attention on Namjoon rather than the rainy city scenery. 

Though it's the opportunity he's been waiting for, he finds it difficult to find the words to begin at the start of the nightmare, distracted by the memory of seeing Hoseok like that. It's an image that won't be leaving his thoughts at all for a long time. “I started off alone in a warehouse,” the brunette begins after a moment of thought. “I felt trapped and entirely alone, like there was nobody around for miles." Now that he's started, the words flow strangely well. "There weren’t any windows or any clear ways out. I saw a pool of blood on the floor, but it didn’t have a trail or anything. When I was looking at it, I realized it was _mine_. That wasn’t the worst part of it, though. I think I had the same wound that the ME deduced Hoseok had the night he disappeared. I’ve never felt pain like that before, honestly, and even though it was just a dream and now I’m awake, I feel… weird here.” He presses his hand to his stomach, where the wound had been. It's weird knowing what kind of pain a stab wound would have, though he's never been stabbed in reality. 

Yoongi’s expression freezes, like he’s in shock or something. The brunette decides it’d be best to give him a minute to recover before continuing. The silver haired man opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, as if he’s unsure what to say but intends to say something. “What happened after that?” 

“I uh, crashed through a mirror into an entirely different room, and you were there. After that, things kind of get weird. You helped me put pressure on my wound, and we had to escape various rooms. All of which were uh, dangerous, just in different ways.” He still remembers how much fear he felt going through everything. “I nearly died from my wound in the dream, but you healed me somehow.” He leaves out that it happened through a kiss, because that feels too weird to admit out loud, even to Yoongi. “Then… then we continued onward, and we found Hoseok…” his voice trails off, struggling to put this last part to words. “I tried to save him, but... he was dead, and the sight was gruesome. I’ve never seen anything like it, even as a detective.” 

A grimace adorns Yoongi’s features as he finishes his story. “God,” the man mutters. “I can’t believe this. Namjoon, I uh… we had the same dream,” he says, his eyes tearing up with fresh tears. “Seeing Hoseok like that, hearing his cries and screams… that makes me feel sick, too.” Yoongi's lower lip quivers until he bites down on it, stilling its movements. 

There’s no way this can actually be real. Two people can’t have the exact same dream at the exact same time. His brain struggles to accept the possibility, and yet… could it be possible? “I... describe something I left out,” he says, trying to find out if this is actually true or not. The skeptic in him is yelling that it's not possible... but the other part of him feels like it strangely makes sense, though it's unsupported by any sound logic or reason. 

“I healed you by kissing you,” Yoongi murmurs, way less affected than Namjoon is at the idea of them sharing a dream, but thoroughly unsettled and queasy by the events of the dream itself. “And Hoseok… we could hear him from the tunnel, but he fell silent before you came back with the key. When we got inside, he...” Saying the words looks like it phsyically pains him, and he sucks in a shaky breath for air. "He was already gone, but you tried CPR anyway. He didn't make it."

But there’s no mistaking it, that's _exactly what happened in his dream_. “We did have the same dream, then,” the brunette says, running a hand through his hair. The world’s gone crazy.

Nothing makes sense anymore. 

“Joon… be careful, okay? Promise me you’ll be careful. This is going to sound crazy, but every time I dream about someone getting hurt, it actually happens. I’ve never even told Hoseok this, but… I dreamt about my parents dying the morning before the semi-truck hit them. And my childhood friend… I dreamt of visiting him in the ICU the night before he actually was admitted to the hospital. Nobody told me until after he died, though. And Seok…” he whispers, trailing off. He looks like he’s debating on telling Namjoon more, and for once… the brunette is sure he won’t hold back. It feels like they’re standing on the top of a mountain, getting ready to plunge downwards. This time, Yoongi is ready to take that plunge with him. “The reason I had a panic attack at all that night was that I had flashes that didn’t make sense at the time. Blood splattering on a street, the sound of a car crash… and teeth. I still haven’t figured that one out, but the other things actually _happened_ to Hoseok. I can’t lose you, too. I was so scared you were going to die in the dream." He's crying harder now, his nose sniffling. 

God, to think Yoongi’s been struggling with this for years on his own hurts Namjoon’s heart. He wastes no time in standing up and wrapping his arms around his roommate, awkward angle not even mattering in the slightest. “Hyung, I promise I’ll be careful. I can’t lose you, either. I love you.” The declaration feels so good and right to say, even if he still has unresolved feelings regarding Hoseok. He believes that he and Yoongi will still be okay, even after that conversation. 

“I love you, too,” Yoongi says with a sniffle, squeezing him tight. “I love you.” 

For a while, they just hold one another, each needing the comfort only the other can provide. After a bit, Namjoon pulls back, though he takes Yoongi’s hand, knowing how much touch comforts him. “Do you want to do something to take our minds off of everything?” he asks, raising a brow as he awaits the blonde’s answer. "I understand if you're low on energy." 

But Yoongi shakes his head at those words. "I don't want to stay here," he says, taking a deep breath. "Getting out will help. What do you want to do?" 

Namjoon's not sure if anything will help loosen the hold the nightmare has over him, but it's worth a try. "Do you want to go to the Space Needle?" he asks, thinking of the best sightseeing spot on his list. If anything will get them out of their heads for even just a minute, it'd be that. 

"Sure," Yoongi says, his voice a bit smaller than usual, bringing Namjoon's hand in his up to his lips. He presses gentle kisses to the knuckles there. "Though we should shower first."

It's already dark outside, but he knows the Space Needle is open pretty late, and supposedly has a really good restaurant at the top, so he nods back and takes the lead back to the bathroom. The two of them both appear to be extra clingy, extra touchy. They exchange kisses under the spray of the warm water, each of them washing away the horrors of the dream by grounding themselves in reality. Namjoon is tender as he washes Yoongi's back for him, and then shortly after, his hair. When the gesture is returned and Yoongi opts to care for him, Namjoon feels an overwhelming amount of gratitude. His roommate never fails to make him feel safe, and right now when he feels so fragile, it's something he treasures. 

When they’re dressed and ready to go, they head out, opting to walk on foot since their destination is so close. Even though they’ve both had one hell of a day, every step closer they take towards their destination gives them breathing room. They're still clearly shaken and uneasy, but they're both trying to make something good come out of the night, and it's working as best it can. They enjoy the views and the lights from high above the city, and even if it's escapism at its best, they hold onto it, not willing to let it go. 

They make out with the Seattle skyline sparkling behind them, and for just this moment, they can pretend that they are okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's doing okay after such a dark chapter! The dreamscape was shamelessly inspired by the Fake Love MV, though I took tons of creative liberties. I could never have come up with such a distorted dream on my own. 
> 
> Just a head's up, I might slow my updating a bit, even though I'm crazy excited to share this with everyone! I've got two big things happening in my life atm. One, I'm moving at the end of February into a larger place, and two: I'm in the early stages of opening an etsy shop! I'm planning to sell hand-painted BTS rapline merch, so if that interests you, feel free to hit me up on twitter so I can keep you in the loop. 
> 
> Peace out, loves!


	10. It Goes Round & Round, Why Do I Keep Coming Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi & Namjoon stalk Hoya's socials, and surveillance on Hoya takes an unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, my wonderful readers! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the last chapter!! There are lots of Easter eggs in it, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on what they might be, especially as the story goes on. Some will be revealed shortly, but there's lots of foreshadowing for the ending in there, too. (Though I'll say it now, the fic won't have a major character death, so don't worry about that bit!) 
> 
> I just want to take a moment and say thank you to everyone who's read this fic, commented, or given it a kudos! I love giving you a story that you enjoy. This is a story I wrote for myself, but sharing it with you and seeing that others like it, too, means the world to me. <3

Chapter 9: It Goes Round & Round, Why Do I Keep Coming Back? (I Need U, BTS)

Min Yoongi  
Saturday, March 07, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

The next morning, Yoongi finds himself feeling terribly exhausted despite how little they did the day before, and the copious amount of sleep he got. He knows why, knows that it’s because his sleep has been wrecked by intense dreams… or rather, _dream_. It’s like his brain is trying to tell him something about this strange dreamscape, the one he somehow managed to share with Namjoon. The whole thing feels like an enormous escape room, and he hasn’t yet gotten where he needs to in time. Though he’s had repeat dreams before, he was never able to change the course of events from the first time he went through it. Everything about this dream is different. Namjoon hasn’t made an appearance in it again, which Yoongi is grateful for. 

It’s a little bit hard for him to see him so upset by what he sees here, and… Yoongi doesn’t want to see him injured again. He doesn’t like what that means, doesn’t like that he might get injured or even worse in real life because of it. Though on one hand, he thinks going through this dream would be easier with him by his side. Everything else they’ve faced together has been far easier knowing their backs were covered. 

When Yoongi wakes fully, he can relax better than he could in his sleep. Namjoon’s curled up as his little spoon, and the oldest treats him like a teddy bear, keeping his arms wrapped tight around him. His body radiates warmth, and he likes how they fit together. Yoongi really likes Namjoon’s woody scent. It reminds him of home, back when he was still a kid under the safety and protection of his parents. He can imagine a fireplace crackling as the wood burns, giving off the perfect amount of heat as he inhales, nuzzling the crook of his neck affectionately. 

He loves waking up like this. He always forgets how nice it is to share a bed with someone until he experiences it again. Two days in a row with Namjoon like this feels a bit like he’s living in a fantasy world, that is, until he factors in all the other things that are happening. 

Hoseok reappearing after so long… it feels far too easy. Yoongi and Namjoon have been hurting for years, desperately trying to make sense of what happened on May 19, 2015, with literally no progress. They held on, kept going, even when everyone else gave up and moved on. But he also thinks… the whole thing with Hoseok never did make sense, and perhaps the reason it didn’t is because neither of them knew the rules. 

Yoongi suspects that they weren’t in the right playing field before, and they are now. Whatever rules they were using before back at home didn’t fit the game. Even though it still doesn’t make sense yet, he’s now 100% sure that they will find the truth. Yoongi’s never found a mystery he couldn’t solve, especially with Namjoon at his side. 

He hums softly in thought, wondering the best way to gain proof Hoya is Hoseok discreetly. A fingerprint wouldn’t be the most practical, so DNA is probably the best route. Maybe hair? Blood wouldn’t be easy, either. Nor would saliva. Hair… hmm. That might be the easiest, though to get close enough to get one might be difficult. 

He supposes he could just ask. In theory if Hoya isn’t Hoseok, then he wouldn’t be opposed, you’d think. But if he asks for a DNA sample, he’s showing his hand, and not to mention… if he is being threatened or watched for whatever reason, he likely couldn’t say yes without jeopardizing himself. 

The thought does make a fluttery feeling of panic sweep over him. He doesn’t know why he’s lying, but he doesn’t like any of the scenarios his brain comes up with. If he’s stuck in a sex trafficking ring somehow… his heart aches imagining it. Honestly it’s the only idea that he thinks might be true. Hoseok’s family is harmless, so there’s no reason to hold him hostage. This isn’t some shady government crime novel, this is real life. 

He needs to make sure he’s okay, and help him out of whatever hell he’s in. He doesn’t care how long it might take, or what they’ll face so long as everyone comes out of it. 

With a small sigh, he decides that it’s time to wake his partner up, wanting to discuss and share ideas with him. He does think it’s weird that he’s up before him for once, but kind of likes the change. He presses a kiss to the patch of skin on Namjoon’s neck that’s accessible to him, letting his hands move to shake him gently. 

“Hmm?” the brunette asks sleepily, his head rolling sideways to attempt to see Yoongi. 

God he looks so cute like this, with the messy bed hair and droopy eyes of someone just waking up. His heart skips a beat at the sight, especially knowing that barely anyone has witnessed this side of him. It makes Yoongi feel special. 

“Time to wake up,” he murmurs, leaning closer to him. He presses gentle kisses on various patches of skin that he can reach from this angle. Seeing Namjoon’s lips curl upwards into a smile makes him smile back. Why can’t their life always be this easy? 

Except, as wonderful as all of this is, it’s only one aspect of their lives. They’ve got so much baggage, and they carry pain, loss, and heartache. Those things can’t be forgotten no matter how many good moments they face together. It’s deeply engrained in who they are, who they will be in the future. So Yoongi chooses to embrace the peacefulness and tranquility while he can, committing the sensation and moment to memory for when things are hard yet again. 

“Don’t wanna,” Namjoon murmurs, though he’s still smiling. 

“Have we traded places or something?” the blonde asks playfully, hooking a leg over the other man, relishing in the feeling of Namjoon’s smooth skin as he adjusts them both. Last night they wore only their boxers to bed.

“Mmm, well if we have, I don’t mind being woken up this way,” the brunette comments, bringing a hand up to cup Yoongi’s cheek, brushing some stray hairs away from his eyes. They both lean in, meeting each other halfway for a kiss. The touch of their lips together is already such a familiar and warm sensation, and it’s the perfect start to his day.

“Neither do I,” he murmurs, his heart fluttering in his chest as he pulls back only far enough to speak the words. It’s moments like these where he wonders why he was so scared to take the risk with Namjoon and open up about his feelings. But also… neither did he. “Just out of curiosity, how long have you had feelings for me, Joonie?” he asks, no longer so worried about it. His gaze is playful as he meets his sleepy brown eyes. 

“Mmm… do you want an honest answer?” he asks, returning the playfulness. 

“I would accept nothing less,” he teases. “Or do you regularly lie to me, mmm?” 

Namjoon scoffs and makes a face that makes Yoongi want to pinch his cheeks. “As if I ever could,” he says, rolling his eyes a bit before his features soften into a small smile. “Honestly… a few months after I moved in with you and Seok.” His cheeks darken slightly as he speaks, slowly and methodically. “What about you, hyung?” 

Of course this is a fair question to ask, but now it’s his turn to be in the hot spot. “Er… well, I’m not totally sure, but I suspect it was probably around the same time for me. When I really realized it was probably the first Christmas we spent together with your family after Hoseok disappeared. I didn’t know how to handle that, really, which is why it’s taken me so long to make a move.” He flashes a cheeky expression, though, intending to lighten the mood. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Uncertainty, I’d say,” Namjoon admits, still a bit sheepish. “I’m not exactly used to anyone finding me attractive. Maybe it’s a side effect of being in love with your best friend for so long. It’s happened to me twice now. I’m oblivious to anyone else’s attention on me, and assume all affection is strictly platonic until proven otherwise.” His blush is getting a bit intense, and god, Yoongi does kind of wish he’d worked up the nerve to do all this sooner. It feels silly to think he’s been pining for so long when Namjoon has had feelings for him this whole time, too. 

He pointedly does not bring up the fact that they both had feelings for each other while they had feelings for Hoseok. Well, actually… maybe Yoongi is projecting a little. He feels a bit guilty for having had feelings for both of them at the same time. Maybe that’s why he can’t remember when he actually developed those feelings for Namjoon because he denied them so much. Even with Hoseok being poly and clearly accepting, Yoongi had some internal issues to work on, because it felt wrong to have feelings for two people at the same time. He eventually understood that it wasn't unnatural, thanks to Hoseok, and became comfortable with the idea. Yoongi only ever had issues with just one couple Hoseok dated, and those issues had everything to do with their toxicity as human beings rather than it being a poly relationship. The idea that he could be polyamorous, too, feels… not wrong, but also still foreign, too new. He's never used that label to define himself before. 

He also isn’t sure what Namjoon and Yoongi's current relationship is just yet. He knows his feelings on the matter, and he thinks Namjoon’s might be pretty clear, too, it’s just… maybe right now isn’t a good time to define it. Yoongi is _certain_ Hoya is Hoseok. And while he’s not so naïve to think that they could all just fall in love and everything will be okay for all three of them, Yoongi needs to figure out what he wants from Hoseok’s potential return into his life in case it does happen. 

Yoongi knows— but hates— what he wants because it _is_ naïve. It feels childish to want everything to go back to how it once was. Just… a little more. He wants a fantasy that can’t happen. He _does_ want all three of them to fall in love and be happy. But even if Hoya is Hoseok and he does decide to come home to Portland, things are so far from being like how they were when he was happiest. Hoseok has probably been through something bad, something horrible enough to make it so he either can’t or doesn’t want to come home. That won’t be easy to recover from. And with the newest developments from his relationship with Namjoon… god, that could definitely push Hoseok away. Not to mention, unresolved feelings that neither himself nor Namjoon got to work through before Hoseok’s disappearance can cause a lot of other problems. It’s still a mystery as to if Hoseok even returned their feelings. 

God, wouldn’t that be a joke. Hoseok not having feelings for either of them. 

Why does that make his heart hurt worse? In theory, that’s actually the best case scenario, so Namjoon and Yoongi’s newly discovered relationship doesn’t hurt him. It’s just… he knows that would hurt like hell for him, and maybe Namjoon, too? Yoongi doesn’t think he’s over Hoseok, not entirely, and neither is he. 

His head hurts, thinking about this. He probably should talk about it with Namjoon. Speculation and suspicions aren’t concrete, they aren’t proof. Yoongi needs to know how he feels about all of this, just like Namjoon needs to know how conflicted his heart is about this. Yet the words don’t form. The gravity of that discussion is too enormous. 

“Hmph, we really have traded places today,” Namjoon comments, running a hand through Yoongi’s hair. “You look lost in thought. What’s on your mind?” 

He looks so happy, so relaxed. No way can he bring this up just yet. “Too much, really. I’m still trying to process the whole thing from yesterday and what it means for everyone,” he admits, and the words are truthful, if not a bit intentionally vague. 

“Yeah, I do understand that,” Namjoon replies, his relaxed expression tensing a little at the reminder. “Years of memories and questions are coming back to mind. Even if Hoya isn’t Hoseok, I can't stop myself from wondering if it’d be possible to just find him by coincidence like finding Hoya, y’know? I always imagined finding him would be so different. I imagined you and I finding some ridiculously small lead and seeing it through to the end, finding him probably still in a really bad situation.” Namjoon, too, struggles saying aloud the likely possibilities that could have happened to Hoseok. It makes Yoongi feel a little better that it’s not just him. “I’m torn… on one hand, I want Hoseok to be Hoya. On the other, I want him to just be a stranger, because… if he’s Hoya, then… I don’t know. Appearances can be deceiving, I know that, but him working and living a seemingly normal life here, just without us? That cuts deep.” 

Yoongi nods solemnly, absolutely understanding that kind of thought process. That’s partially why he’s not letting himself paint a picture of Hoya’s life, because… well because he’s scared that his advice from their conversation yesterday was actually how he feels. If he doesn’t want to be found… does that mean he’s happier here now, without them? Without his family? 

That stings. Badly. 

He doesn’t want to think about that. 

“Yeah… I know. If Hoya is Hoseok, I don’t know if I could let him go that easily,” he admits, letting himself roll back over so his back’s against the bed. He looks at the ceiling, probably wearing a frown. “I want him to be happy, though. If that’s here, I could be okay with that in time, maybe.” 

“It’s probably going to sound conceited,” Namjoon begins, fluffing his hair as he flops on his back. He stares upwards at the cieling, too. “I just can’t imagine him being happy without me. When we were kids, we always talked about our ridiculous dreams and how we’d always make a space for one another in our dream futures. Even when Hoseok showed interest in studying abroad in Brazil, he found a way to fit me into his dreams. The idea of him willingly staying away from me, just…” he trails off with a sigh. “Feels wrong. And his parents? You know as well as I do that he loves them so _much_ , his mom especially. He did have a few minor issues with his dad, but they seemed to be on relatively good terms. And he adores Dawon. I’ve never seen a brother love his sister like he loves her. He’s half the reason I’m a decent brother to _my_ sister.” He shakes his head before rolling onto his side to look at Yoongi. “Hoseok didn’t have the kind of life that would be easy to leave behind. So if he’s choosing to not come home, I’m not sure what reasoning I would be okay with. I don’t know that I could let him go at all.” 

Yoongi tilts his head sideways to look at him, his heart hurting at how sad he sounds as he speaks. “That’s not conceited. The two of you knew each other your whole lives, I can imagine that being really hard to picture. Honestly, if Hoseok doesn’t want to come home… I think it might be for a different reason than him being happier wherever he is…” he thinks aloud, taking Namjoon’s hand in his, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. “If anything, I think it would be out of fear.” 

A puzzled look crosses the brunette’s expression as he asks, “Fear to be home?” 

Blonde hair falls in front of his eyes as he nods with a sad smile. “Yeah… I mean, we see it all the time with victims.” He swallows back the distaste he has upon saying that word. It’s hard connecting the dots that Hoseok is a victim of any kind; reconciling that thought feels oddly difficult, though he’s dreamt of all kinds of horrible scenarios where he could be described as such. 

“You’re right….” Namjoon agrees, his eyes looking like they’re close to tearing up again. 

Shit, so much for him not bringing the mood down. Yoongi does feel bad for bringing this up while the two of them are still in bed. 

“Yoongi… uh, there’s something you should know, though,” he begins, nervously grabbing the back of his neck. 

“What is it?” he asks, internally bracing himself for another emotional hurdle of some kind. 

“I woke up for a while yesterday before the dream... and did a quick search to find Hoya on facebook. Uh, I was successful, and I found out some things. His last name is Park, and the most shocking thing I learned is that Hoya is married,” Namjoon says carefully and slowly, like the words he’s saying still haven’t sunk in for him, either. 

He sucks in a breath, bringing a hand to his forehead as if that’ll help him make sense of anything. At this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but he is definitely surprised and absolutely hurt. 

If Hoya is Hoseok, and Hoya is married… that means _Hoseok is married_.

It feels like there’s a hand clamping around his heart, clenching so hard he can’t even breathe. He can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t want them to fall. He doesn’t want to cry over something like this. It doesn’t mean anything, that facebook says he’s married. Hoseok could just be using it as part of a story, something to maintain being “Hoya” to the world. Hell, whoever he’s married to could be the one who took him. This person could be his abuser. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asks, “To who?” 

“A man named Jimin Park,” the other answers back, his thumb rubbing circles onto the back of his hand. “He’s a nightclub owner, though he looks to be just about Hoya’s age, maybe younger, so he doesn’t seem too suspicious. He’s smaller than Hoya, from what I could see of their public pictures. Hoya’s husband is very smiley, far more so than he is.” 

Dread floods his system, making him want to just curl into a ball and forget to exist for a while. He feels a little weak for barely learning anything and already feeling overwhelmed, but this is a curveball he hadn’t expected. It’s a testament to just how much is different, and how little he can do to mentally prepare for all these changes. This investigation is deeply personal, so of course everything he finds and learns is going to cause so much heartache and pain. 

So many thoughts whirl around, one right after another. One thought keeps coming around and around in his head: what the hell happened to Hoseok? 

He feels closer to solving everything than he ever has before… but now, he also feels further from Hoseok than he ever has, too. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow, it would seem. Every step forward is also a step backward in a different direction. 

“Hey, you,” Namjoon murmurs, letting go of his hand to cup his cheek. “We’ll get through all this. For now, let’s get up and come up with a plan.” 

Yoongi nods, thankful when the brunette initiates a chaste kiss. He leans into it and cards his fingers through Namjoon’s fluffy hair, appreciating the softness against his fingertips. This whole aspect of their relationship may be new, but he feels right at home here, in these clumsy hands of his. 

When they part, Yoongi feels a little better. He rolls out of the bed, shuddering slightly at the cool temperature of the air making contact with the bare skin of his legs and back. It’s not long before Namjoon follows, hugging him from behind, warming his back. His lips curl upwards into a smile as he leans back into those arms. “Mmm, I really like being able to touch you like this,” Namjoon whispers into his ear. Yoongi shudders again, this time entirely unrelated to the cold. 

“I love being held like this by you,” he answers back, his cheeks feeling warm. “Care to shower with me?” 

“I thought you’d never ask, hyung,” teases the younger before nudging him forward, guiding them to the bathroom. 

The blonde laughs softly and takes the lead, turning on the water to a reasonable temperature. Despite Yoongi’s attempts to tease Namjoon and the younger's wandering hands, the two of them don’t fool around too much, keeping their shower mostly innocent. They’re both aware that today will probably be a busy day, all thoughts of being on vacation put on hold. They don’t have a single minute to waste; it’s already Saturday. Their time in Seattle is limited. 

Once they’re out of the shower, they head downstairs to the Starbucks one door down from their hotel lobby. Neither of them are super fond of Starbucks for different reasons, but they settle on it considering it is extremely convenient, and probably better than going to Koku until they’re ready, at least. 

After they place their orders, they take a seat at a table overlooking the window, phones in hand on different social media platforms. Namjoon’s looking at Hoya’s instagram, while Yoongi catches up on the facebook profiles Namjoon's already seen. 

Yoongi looks at the image of Hoya’s husband, a heaviness settling over his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He wants to hate this smiley man, wants his initial bad vibes to stick around and be validated, and yet… nothing. Actually he looks quite friendly and gives off really good vibes, a whole lot like how Hoseok seemed before he disappeared. And he’s mad about it. He wants this Jimin guy to be the answer to his problem, the bad guy to pin all the blame on, and yet… he’s just not. Yoongi likes to think he’s pretty good at reading people, and though he has yet to personally meet him, he can’t shake off the feeling that he’s harmless. 

And maybe it helps that he looks a lot more like Hoseok around _him—_ he’s genuinely smiling in the pictures with Jimin rather than the ones where he’s alone. If Hoseok is happy with him around, how could he be bad? And it looks mostly genuine, too, if not a little cautious. Yoongi knows firsthand how that is, having been in that kind of mindset until Hoseok melted the ice around his heart, and showed him a world of colour and light that he'd been missing out on. 

He swallows his nerves and reaches the end of the public pictures he can see without sending a friend request. A sigh leaves his lips and he nearly jumps at the opportunity to leave the table when his and Namjoon’s drinks and food items are called out at the end of the bar. He’s sort of frustrated at himself, taking all of these things so poorly. Investigating him would be so much easier if he’d been a complete stranger. Yoongi never struggles with cases like this, never gets too personally invested. This one is the one case where he can't avoid it, though, so maybe it's the universe's way of balancing the scales.

When he returns to the table, he sets the items down in front of Namjoon, peering over his shoulder to see what he’s looking at. He’s still on Hoya’s instagram, watching what looks like a dance video. “Here you go,” he says quietly before returning to his seat on the other side of the table. “Have you found anything interesting?” he asks, sipping on his boiling hot americano cautiously. It's way too hot to drink, so he pulls back with a frown.

“Interesting is a loose word for it. Hoya’s instagram is full of videos of him dancing… hyung, he's really fucking good. Look!" Namjoon excitedly flips his phone around so Yoongi can see him dancing free style. His mouth nearly drops in awe. The way he dances and moves his body looks _professional_. He’s dancing to some kind of hip hop, and while Yoongi did briefly take a dance class as a kid, he never would claim to be an expert. It only gives him a sense of how much control Hoya has over each individual muscle. "In one of the comments on his videos, he mentioned starting dance when he was five. You took dance when you were young, too, right? Do you think it's possible Hoseok could get this good in just a few years?" 

Yoongi nods in response to both questions, but elaborates further. "I did take one class for a few weeks. I'm no expert, but I think Hoseok would be able to get this good, even in just a few years. It's like he was born to dance," the blonde says, finally taking a not scorching hot sip from his americano. "He never failed to pick up choreography just by looking at videos of K-pop. I bet with a teacher, he'd flourish." 

“I guess that’s true. I could never, but I bet he could,” the other comments, going back to scrolling though posts. 

Yoongi nods, but otherwise falls silent. He takes out a notebook from his pocket, jotting down some notes about things he doesn’t want to forget, especially from their conversation with Hoya yesterday. Some details are already fuzzy, but he does remember that Hoya’s birthday is December 13th, 1997. He makes a mental note to look up a birth certificate and other legal documentation later. As he writes the date, his hand halts slightly. December 13th… that’s the day he had the dream of Hoseok coming home, only back in 2015. 

He remembers it because that was the only dream he ever had where Hoseok wasn’t _dead_ or _dying_. He remembers how disoriented he was when he woke up, because the dream had felt so real that his heart shattered all over again when he realized it wasn’t. That dream is so clear to him, even now. He dreamt that he was home with Namjoon back in the apartment the three of them shared, sitting on the couch in their living room watching _It’s A Wonderful Life_ in hopes of getting into the Christmas spirit… until a soft and tentative knock on the door caught their attention. He remembers it was Namjoon who got up to answer it with a shrug, since neither of them were expecting anything or anyone. The gasp caught Yoongi’s attention, and when he looked over, seeing faded red hair over Namjoon’s shoulder, he’d never moved so fucking fast in his life... so of course that happened in a dream. 

He remembers crying in the dream, wrapping his arms around his waist and crying so _hard._ He remembers how the past months of heartache, worry, and fear left his body with every tear shed, every sob. He remembers how none of them really could talk, because Hoseok was crying even harder than they were. He looked so scared, so small, so… unlike himself, but it was him, and he was okay. He never had the chance to ask why in the dream, or what happened. 

Even though when he woke up, he spent an hour just crying, desperately wishing the dream was real, he felt _hope_ for the first time in so many months. The whole day felt like it was leading up to his dream, and he was in such a weirdly good mood because of it. Namjoon had asked him why, but he couldn’t really explain it. He’d only said “It’s a good day, I guess,” and left it at that. When Namjoon said they should watch something, and he ended up picking _It’s A Wonderful Life_ without any suggestion from himself, he remembers how antsy he became through the whole first half of the movie. And when the movie ended without Hoseok coming home, he remembers falling apart, alone in his bedroom with a bottle of cheap vodka, scaring the hell out of Namjoon because he wouldn’t let him inside, didn’t want him to see how bad things were. 

A bitter taste floods his mouth at the memory, as if his body is remembering the vodka and tears from that night rather than the coffee he’s drinking right now. With a small shake of his head, he tries to shake off the memory. It’s not important or relevant. He goes back to looking at his phone, checking instagram where thankfully all of the photos and videos are viewable to the public. He sees pictures of Hoya’s circle, and from the looks of it, his second significant other. She’s a beautiful Latina lady named Becky, and fuck if the three of them don’t make a great and gorgeous looking relationship. 

Yoongi tries to not let feelings of abandonment hit him. Whatever reason Hoseok has to be here rather than home is probably a good one. He doesn’t know it yet, but no way would he leave them like that without a good reason. He has to keep telling himself that, though, as it becomes clear the life he has as Hoya is… ordinary. 

He works. He studies. He dances. He spends time with his husband and girlfriend. He occasionally spends time with friends. Rinse and repeat.

Try as he might, he can’t see any red flags from these social media posts. Everyone tagged in Hoya’s pictures have real, authentic profiles. No sex bots, no cat fishing, nothing suspicious. A few people are tagged and he calls them family-- there’s a memorial post in honour of his parents. A cousin came to visit. There are childhood pictures of Jimin and Hoseok as kids in England that don’t look photoshopped. 

This life feels strangely authentic. His gut instincts are telling him that Hoya is Hoseok, but… none of the facts are. He needs proof, and with such an airtight social media presence, he doesn’t think he’s going to find it here. 

He can tell Namjoon is leaning away from believing that Hoseok is Hoya, and Yoongi understands, but he feels uncomfortable being alone in the belief. He wants to feel like he’s not crazy. 

After he finishes his americano, he lets out a sigh. 

“Everything okay, hyung?” Namjoon asks, peering up at him over his phone. 

“Mhm,” he answers, not because it’s true, but because it’s easier. 

Namjoon’s definitely more confident in regards to him now, because he calls him out on it. “Don’t downplay anything. Tell me what’s on your mind,” he says, putting his phone down on the table and reaching for his hand. 

Angry tears want to form behind his eyes, but he doesn't allow them to because he _refuses_ to cry in the middle of a Starbucks, angry tears or not. “I'm so frustrated. It's like... I know Hoseok is Hoya. I can't explain it, though. It reminds me of the Anita case." It was the one time where Yoongi did get too close, but it was in the face of adversity. Nobody believed him when he knew it was the school janitor who'd murdered her, and it took a week of carefully going over every piece of evidence with a fine tooth comb before he found the proof he needed, and gave a metaphorical fuck you to his superiors for not believing him. Even Namjoon doubted that he was right about it, because most of the surface level evidence leaned towards someone else and Yoongi had been a little... unhinged at the time. "I just don't have the proof yet, and whatever is happening here... Hoseok is really fucking good at hiding it." 

To his surprise, Namjoon nods back at him with understanding etched into his handsome features. "I... get it. I'm conflicted on whether or not it's him... but I understand a little of what you're feeling. If it _is_ him, he's doing so good at hiding it when that was never something he was good at. Lying? He used to be so _obvious_ about it. And... all of this stuff on social media is circumstantial. But so is everything in support of him being Hoseok. We don't have a single piece of solid evidence leaning either way. These pictures may feel authentic, but... it's not hard to put a persona on social media. We'd need to talk to Hoya himself to determine whether or not he's telling the truth, but getting him alone or even getting DNA would be incredibly difficult at this point. I don't think Hoseok would go to all these lengths to stay hidden... but that he could still be in some kind of trouble. There are still way too many questions left unanswered." He takes a drink from his latte finishing it off before setting the cup down on the table. "I just want the truth, no matter what it is. I just want to bring Hoseok home. That's why... I don't want to believe Hoya is Hoseok, because... Hoya is so different from who I remember that it hurts like hell."

“I understand where you’re coming from, too,” Yoongi agrees, giving his hand a small squeeze. His anger may have flared up for a moment, but it isn't directed at Namjoon, and upon seeing and hearing him talk like that, his instincts to comfort him are taking over. "I really do miss him. It should have gone away by now, but it hasn't. He always gave me hope that things would get better someday, and... I don't know that I would have gotten through my depression without him. And meeting him brought me to you. I never would have been able to survive him going missing if I didn't have you. I just... can't let him go. Letting him go would feel like losing hope again." His free hand picks at a loose thread on his sweater and he keeps his gaze down, unable to look at Namjoon for too long. The admission is so obviously love, but he can't name it as such. He hopes that the genius next to him will get what he's hinting at, though he's not ready to talk about his feelings for Hoseok that openly yet. Not while the mystery behind Hoya is still unsolved. 

“I miss him, too. He was like my light. I was always so brooding as a kid and teenager, and whenever he came around, I just felt like I had a light on me, guiding me. I used to call him the sun to my moon.” Namjoon’s hand adjusts to lace their fingers together, and the feeling is calming despite the sadness he feels his soul radiating. "His smiles always felt like a ray of sunshine, and it was so contagious that I found myself smiling right alongside him."

“Hope and the sun, both describe him pretty well,” the blonde comments thoughtfully. “If he is Hoya... then I’m worried he’s lost his own hope and light. I wouldn’t know how to give those back to him... I’d just want to be by his side through it all,” he finishes, finally bringing his gaze up to meet Namjoon’s. This pain they carry… it’s so intense. There might be moments like earlier this morning where they feel far away from it, but it hasn’t ever once left them. The two of them fall silent, both stewing in their own thoughts on the matter. They need a break from Hoya’s seemingly happy and perfect life. Yoongi hates feeling like this though. He hates feeling powerless, like this whole thing is yet another dead end. So naturally, he begins planning. They need more intel on Hoya, but need to be a bit discreet, on the off chance he’s in some kind of danger or being watched. 

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Hey, Joon… I think we should go to Koku and maybe just surveil Hoya for a bit. What do you say to that? We need to find a way to get DNA without him noticing, and maybe by watching him for a while, we’ll find an opportunity,” he suggests, trying to muster the energy for a smile. It’s small, but there, and the brunette reflects it back to him. The moon is an apt symbol for him, Yoongi thinks. He wonders what a good metaphor for him would be. 

“Sure, hyung,” he answers, and the two of them get up, collect their trash, and leave. 

The walk back up the hill is ridiculously challenging yet again, and Yoongi offhandedly thinks he’s still managed to get his workout while on vacation from this damn hill alone. Maybe this time it would have been better to drive, though it hadn’t even crossed his mind. When they get to the top of the hill and cross the street, they seat themselves at a table situated next to a window into Koku and across from the fountain. Thankfully there are a cluster of little businesses in this little plaza near the fountain, so they’re not obviously staring at Koku specifically, but they both can see inside from the seats they chose. 

Hoya this time is hardly in vision, since he’s not at the register today. He’s hustling, busying himself at the espresso bar. He’s moving ridiculously fast, as if the job of making drinks is being done entirely off of muscle memory. It reminds Yoongi of a well-oiled machine, and damn if he doesn’t look graceful while he moves. That’s definitely not someone who’s new to their job, and even though an espresso bar is far from any kind of stage, Yoongi can see the grace of a dancer in his movements. 

He bites his lip while he thinks, wondering how he’d go about getting any sort of DNA sample in a legal way. If he tosses a bottle, that would be the easiest kind of sample to get. Or if there was a loose hair on his coat, though getting a good hair sample from clothing is a bit of a hit or miss. The ideas circulate in his mind, but all of them would require being within close proximity to him, and he highly doubts that would happen after their conversation yesterday. 

Time passes fairly quickly, as he’s lost in thought and observing the chaos of this tiny little café through the side window. It seems to be busy nearly all morning, and when it slows down, it’s just after one o’clock. Yoongi's hands are freezing cold by now and at this point, they’ve been here for a few hours and are ready to eat again. He vaguely remembers the untouched pork bowls that are sitting in their refrigerator back at the hotel, but there's no way he'd be up for leaving Koku just yet. He’s about to suggest ducking into one of these other businesses for food when someone taps his shoulder, startling both him and Namjoon, who drops his phone in shock. It clatters to the metal table with a lound clang. 

“Is there a particular reason you’ve been staring at my husband?” a handsome blonde Korean man asks, also with a very distinctly British accent. He sounds a bit annoyed… and holy shit, this is Jimin Park. Hoya’s husband. “I know he’s handsome, but you're being quite creepy." 

Actually yes. He does have a point on that regard, but also, they’re not clearly watching just Hoya. Namjoon’s phone is out, and Yoongi’s facing the fountain. It’d take a sharp eye to know that he’s been watching Hoya from his peripheral, and the fact that Jimin noticed that... puts Yoongi on edge a bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just watching the fountain,” Yoongi replies coolly, tilting his head up to look at the man better. 

Jimin looks like he’s about to reply when movement from Yoongi's left catches his attention. It's Hoya walking towards them, immediately skeptical upon seeing Yoongi and Namjoon sitting there. “Oy, you two again? What are you here for now?” 

A look of understanding crosses Jimin’s face, and his entire demeanor changes. “Oh! Are these two the chaps you mentioned yesterday, looking for their friend?” His voice is instantly warmer, lighter, and more friendly that it has Yoongi’s head spinning a little. This guy is interesting to say the least. 

Hoya rolls his eyes and nods minutely, pointedly not looking at Yoongi or Namjoon. 

“Ya, love, don’t be so rude to them, they’re only trying to find someone they care for,” Jimin chides, walking over to Hoya and sliding an arm around him. “I know that if you went missing, I’d be devastated. Care to have a chinwag with these blokes?” The dancer sighs but pecks his husband’s cheek affectionately. 

Yoongi ignores the foreign taste of jealousy on his tongue and averts his eyes away from it, not wanting to see them together so… romantically. _You should be over this by now_ , he tells himself. Even if this is Hoseok, it’s far from the first time he’s seen him be in a relationship of any kind with anyone. He really shouldn’t be so affected by it... especially when Namjoon is right here with him. Subconsciously, he finds himself taking up Namjoon's hand again, thankful when he squeezes it back. 

“If that’s what you want, I suppose we can do. Must we have it out here, though? It looks like it’ll rain any moment and I haven’t got a brolly,” he says back, glancing up at the sky. His silver earrings gleam slightly as they reflect light. 

Then Jimin turns to Namjoon and Yoongi, dipping his head. “Sorry to accuse you of any wrongdoing, I can be a bit protective, you see,” the blonde man says, looking so sincere in his words that Yoongi can’t even begin to be mad. His dark brown eyes look so welcoming, far different than just moments ago. 

Hoya adjusts and links his arm with his husband’s, and then looks over to the two of them. He wears a polite expression… if not a bit cold. “Would the two of you gentlemen care for a cuppa at our place? I can answer whatever questions you may have,” he says, and all of the politeness feels tense. 

Strangely enough, it’s Jimin who’s giving off friendly vibes. Hoya is the one who’s making Yoongi feel… off balance. Not just because he’s sure he’s Hoseok, either, but… the way he carries himself feels so ingenuine. That alone is hard to swallow. Yoongi knows that going through shit can change a person, but having all this cold politeness directed towards them feels so inexplicably wrong, but he nods anyway, unwilling to pass up the opportunity to ask questions. It is suspicious of them to offer, though, so he'll have to pay close attention to them. 

“Joon, is that alright with you?” he asks, finally looking over to his roommate with a bit of concern in his gaze. He looks rather upset, and perhaps it’s because of how physically intimate Jimin and Hoya are together despite being in public at the moment. Or perhaps it's how cold Hoya is towards them... there could be any number of reasons for him to look that way, and he can't jump to conclusions. 

“That’s fine by me,” he says with a shrug. “We got here on foot though, so it might take us a bit to get to your place. Would you mind giving me the address?” he asks, unlocking his phone and opening up the google maps app. 

“Oh, don’t bother, I’d be happy to drive you,” Jimin says with a wave of his hand. “I did come here to pick Hoya up, after all. Oh, blimey! I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I’m Jimin, Jimin Park,” he says with a cheerful smile. He extends the hand he just waved, offering a handshake. 

Yoongi shakes it with a timid smile, thoroughly unsure of where this could possibly go. He hadn’t anticipated anyone here in Hoseok’s new life would be so willing to answer his questions. Is it possible… that not even Jimin knows what secrets Hoya is keeping? That doesn’t seem likely, and yet… with the way Hoya is so closed off and reserved, he sees it being possible. The touch of Jimin's hand doesn't flood him with a weird feeling, either. It feels... almost reassuring. 

Namjoon shakes his hand afterwards, and the two of them exchange introductions and pleasantries with Jimin. Hoya stays quiet the whole way to the car, taking the passenger seat with a pensive expression on his face. 

Yoongi bites his lip, wondering if this is when he should attempt a DNA sample, seated right behind the mysterious man, but decides that now isn’t the time, curious first to see how he’ll answer the questions he and Namjoon have. _Will we finally get answers, or just more questions?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, I can't wait to post the next chapter. Honestly waiting two weeks to post this one was a challenge. Oof. But please be warned, the next chapter is going to be hella long. I think it's about 15k, and when I go to edit before posting, I tend to add more than I take, so it'll be a long one. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, or kudos if you enjoyed the chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	11. So Much Pain, Too Much Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Yoongi & Namjoon's interrogation, Hoseok finds himself in the middle of a mental breakdown, but he can't afford to show it. He has a role to play.  
>  **This chapter has potentially triggering topics ahead.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOO MY LOVELIES
> 
> I'm very very excited for this chapter to be revealed! Please enjoy! ^.^
> 
> Also there are a few songs that I think set the tone for this chapter, so if you are curious or want to delve deeply into this while reading (or after if you get distracted by lyrics) these are the songs that circled my mind (and might've been in my ears) while I wrote this chapter. 
> 
> Blue & Grey - BTS  
> Miss Missing You- Fall Out Boy  
> Just One Yesterday- Fall Out Boy  
> Twin Skeletons- Fall Out Boy  
> Burn It- Agust D  
> Reflection- RM  
> We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal (just Hoseok's verse, though, not the whole song! At least, not yet. heh.)
> 
>  **Warning: Triggering Topics Ahead Including:** minor self harm, minor blood, body image issues, self-loathing, suicidal thoughts, & referenced suicide attempt.

Chapter Ten: So Much Pain, Too Much Crying (We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal) 

Jung Hoseok  
Saturday, March 7th, 2020  
McKenzie Apartments, Seattle, WA

* * *

Hoseok knows that if he still was the same person before everything changed, he would never be able to pull off such an elaborate lie such as having an entire fake backstory. If he so much as even tried to lie about who he is, it would end in disaster. Secret-keeping in the face of confrontation was not something he could ever accomplish. But he’s not the same, and the changes that happened have gifted him the abilities he has now. He might as well been given a silver tongue, all those years ago, with how easy lying comes to him now. As much as it hurts being faced with the two most important people of his past and having to lie to _them_ of all people, it’ll be better for them in the long run. So he knows he’s doing the right thing, but he can’t stop feeling the weight of what he’s about to do inside his chest. Lying to them feels like the ultimate sacrifice. For just the short car ride, he’ll let himself mourn the loss of Yoongi and Namjoon from his life. After today, they’ll stop investigating him. They’ll finally let him go and hopefully move on... hopefully they'll live out happier lives without him.

Smelling their scents makes his aching heart long— he longs for their touch, their hug. Yoongi’s scent still reminds him of coconut oil and eucalyptus, fresh and light. Namjoon’s still using the cedar and sandalwood aftershave, so he smells warm and earthy. Between the two of them, they smell like home. They smell like his old life, and god does he miss how simple it was. If only he could go back to being that person. If he had just one more day to be with them, he’d probably never let them go. That's just a ridiculous fantasy, though, because he never will get the chance to hold them like that again. Those confessions will never go past his lips. 

He takes comfort in the fact that Jimin knows everything. He knows the intricate pain he carries of an old, complicated and potentially unrequited, unrealized love for both men in the back. He knows how hard it is to face them, when all he wants is to go running home to them. And Jimin’s got his back, supporting him in all of his choices, helping him do what he feels he needs to do even as his heart dies another death. Hoseok doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have someone like Jimin in his life, but he’s been so grateful for his presence every single day since December 13th, 2015 when he waltzed into his life as both his savior and guide. Jimin has done _so much_ for him that he'll spend an eternity feeling grateful for him.

Raindrops patter against the glass of the window, and he spaces out staring at them, reminiscing the day Jimin found him… and stopped him from committing suicide. 

He remembers standing at the edge of a cliff after running away from Jimin, looking down at the rushing water fall below, waiting for the sun to rise. He remembers how badly his stomach hurt, how freezing cold his body was, how much pain he felt all over, how horribly guilty he felt. He remembers being soaked in his own blood, how his ratty clothes stuck to his skin as it dried. He remembers _her_ face, haunting him every time he closed his eyes. He remembers how all he wanted was for everything to stop— and he almost let it when the first streaks of dawn bled into the sky. He was so ready to let death take him.

Jimin was only a stranger then, but when he touched Hoseok’s arm and looked at him with those pleading brown eyes, he couldn’t go through with it. To this day, the only reason he can explain it is that he felt an instant connection to him that deserved a chance. He let him take him back to safety, let him care for him and teach him how to exist, how to function again. He remembers debating on whether or not he should trust Jimin or go home, but couldn't bear the thought of going home yet, and that strange pull towards Jimin caused just enough curiosity for him to hold on. He realized he had nothing left to lose by letting Jimin take him in. Adapting to his new life wasn’t easy, and he remembers the entire weeks leading up to Christmas, how he longed to come home but wasn’t sure if he was ready. 

He remembers how on Christmas Eve, Jimin dropped him just outside the house he grew up in, and gave him space and time to decide if going home was the right choice, with an open invitation waiting to go back to him _if that's what he wanted_. Until then, he hadn't been given a choice as to what happens to him. 

He remembers how he stared through the window, seeing what little he could of his childhood home in Corvallis. The way Namjoon and Yoongi were curled up together on the couch, the way Dawon and Geongmin were talking with their hands excitedly, and the way everyone else looked was just... too happy. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back inside and face the questions or the devastation of what happened to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of being so close to everyone physically. He couldn’t handle the idea of being hugged, being touched. He didn’t want the attention of returning home, didn't want to be showered with love when he felt disgusting inside and out. He didn't want to ruin their holiday by having nothing to gift them besides lies.

So instead of walking past the threshold of those doors, he just watched them existing, celebrating. Watching them together was a safe way to feel close to them again. Unbothered by the cold, he watched as Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged a Christmas Eve gift, a tradition that started between the Jungs and Kims years ago. A small smile crossed his lips, seeing the tradition alive and continuing on. The traditions they shared between families eventually came to include Yoongi, too, who was quickly adopted into both households. Watching everyone together that night, he knew then that they would be okay without him because they all had each other. Even with Hoseok's absence, this Christmas celebration didn't look sad or like it was missing anything. And Hoseok… couldn’t see himself there with everything so raw. And he wasn’t alone, either... or rather, he didn't have to be. 

He called Jimin and let him whisk him away anywhere, it didn't matter where they went, he just needed to leave everything behind. At the time he truly didn't care where. He didn’t know whether he really wanted to live or die, but Jimin seemed to want him to live for reasons he would understand later on. But Jimin took him to London, his chosen home, and it awoke something inside him. Seeing the decorations, the beautiful architecture, the culmination of various types of people living, and coexisting rekindled a small hope. His desire to live had been stomped out by _her_ , and what he thought was a dead flame was lit once again thanks to _him_. When Jimin began opening up to him, telling him the horrors of his past-- accredited to the same woman-- it felt like everything was falling into place. It made sense why Jimin wanted him to hold on. They were in this together. Hoseok wasn't a freak, and he certainly wasn't the only one who went through hell and lived to tell the tale. If Jimin could manage to be happy or even feign happiness, then he could, too. And ever so slowly, he began looking forward to the antics, to the lavish spending and the expensive delicacies Jimin showered him with. He began enjoying life, little by little, until he didn’t feel like everything was a blur of blue and grey. Jimin added colour to his life, as if he was a painter painting over the blackened parts of a singed canvas. He breathed life back into him when he couldn't do it for himself.

The life he built with Jimin inspired so much hope. Hoseok wanted to be reborn, to make the most of this new life he'd been given, a life entirely for himself... one he could make something out of despite the horrible trauma he faced. He chose to pursue the one passion he couldn't as Hoseok... So he became Hoya, and the rest followed like dominoes. Not every day was a good day, and lots of them were bad, but they've all lead him to where he is now. His life now may lack some things, but it's so much better than he could have expected. Now, he feels like what progress he's made is all at stake. 

This is his ultimate test. He cannot afford to fail this. Jimin can’t, nor can the kids. Jin and Becky don’t deserve the attention or the consequences for any of their actions. If Hoseok fails them now, they'll all be in jeopardy. That cannot happen. 

When they arrive at the parking garage of their flat, Hoseok finds himself unusually clingy towards Jimin. Physical touch has always been something Hoseok thrives on, but he usually holds himself back out of decency for those around him. But right now, that doesn't matter. He needs his support, his love. He couldn’t get through any of this without him. When the car is locked and Jimin’s hands are free, Hoseok wraps his arm around his. He has to refrain from being over the top with his affection to avoid being out of character, but he’s finding it hard to care when he can tell his two previous friends are also acting quite coupley. There's no doubt about it, in the way Namjoon holds Yoongi's hand the entire car ride, the entire walk to and from, or how close their bodies are to each other constantly. They're every bit the couple that Hoseok and Jimin are, if not even more so because they probably are in love, the kind of love you only feel once in your life. 

His heart aches at the thought and he nuzzles his nose into the crook of Jimin’s neck, inhaling his calming scent. He can do this. He can. 

“How was work?” Jimin asks, providing him with the perfect excuse to cover up why he’s being so clingy. 

“Rubbish,” he answers with a sigh, though the day was alright overall, all things considered. This is the part of the day he's been dreading the most, even though it was his own idea. He knows that everything he says in their presence now will be held against him, so he has to be careful with every single word he voices. “My shift started with a spill. A customer spilt her cappuccino on the condiment bar, and not even a quarter hour later, Tanya burnt her hand and dropped a hot americano on the espresso bar. She’s fine, but I’m the one the customer decided to bitch to, moaning about how unprofessional it is of us, all because she wanted it on the house! The rest of the day was equally miserable.” With a shake of his head, he pulls his keys from his pocket, glancing back at the two, taking in their reactions. After all, a luxury apartment in Seattle probably isn’t what they were expecting Hoya to live in, considering he works as a barista of all things. The two behind them do look shocked, glancing around with a speculative gaze, like they’re not sure what to make of anything. 

“That sounds positively dreadful. I’m glad you’re home now,” Jimin answers him, adjusting to take his hand rather than have their arms linked. The shorter man brings his hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss there. “Pardon us for being bad hosts!” he says to the two detectives. "I haven't had a moment to chat with him 'til now."

“It is alright,” Yoongi answers, a dismissive shake of his head. 

“You invited us over last minute, we just appreciate the offer,” the tallest of them says pleasantly. “This place looks really nice.” 

God, he can tell that both of them are certainly uncomfortable. They both are speaking so formally, it’s awkward. He knows he’s the one who started it, but he hates it already. He never imagined inviting them into his home, but here they are now. If he'd had more time to plan this out, he would have tried to make this place look... less him. Then again, he hardly owns that much anyway, so most of the apartment is decorated by the kids and Jimin.

“Thank you,” Hoseok says, laying the accent on even thicker than usual as he unlocks the front door and holds it open for all of them to walk through. “Courtesy of my husband’s uber rich family.” That’ll definitely get their attention, no doubt. Thankfully they have everything prepared, so if any digging is done, all that’ll turn up is very official documentation that proves them right. The two of them stayed up burning the midnight oil to ensure all their Ts were crossed and their Is dotted.

“What do they do?” Yoongi asks, carefully removing his shoes as he enters, easily falling back into old habits no doubt from growing up in Korea. The apartment does have a distinctly Korean touch, both in decoration and furniture. Hoseok does appreciate Yoongi's gesture, though he’s much more relaxed about tidiness now, having lived with Jimin and the kids for as long as he has. They're all far too set in their ways, and Hoseok is often far too tired to bother nagging them about cleanliness or neatness. Not that the place is bad, necessarily... it just doesn't live up to his own personal standards. Perhaps that'll just help sell the façade he's spent so much time perfecting, though.

“My father was a founder of a music label in Korea, and my mum’s an actress, mostly in British films,” Jimin says, leading them all to the large, comfy white leather sectional couch in the center of the living room. “Does everyone like tea? I have earl grey and varieties of English teas,” he offers, making his way to the kitchen, speaking to them over the breakfast bar. Hoseok idly wonders if he’ll bring out his fancy tea set, the one he usually can’t wait to show off at any opportunity. If he remembers correctly, neither Namjoon nor Yoongi like black teas, though, so perhaps he'll make individual cups. Hoseok didn’t used to like black teas either, not until Jimin swept him off his feet and took him straight to England with him. 

“You know my answer, babe,” Hoseok murmurs, taking a seat on the chaise section of the couch, angled in such a way that he's more or less facing both men from his past. For a moment, he just focuses on the small sounds in the room, hoping to calm himself down. Getting all anxious and nervous will only make him more likely to slip up. He doesn’t want to resort to using other means to convince them to stop investigating him, so he has to really sell his story. Silently, he takes a deep breath and hopes nobody notices.

“Course. What about you?” he asks, pointedly staring at the duo. 

“Eh… do you have peppermint?” Namjoon asks, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck before leaning back in his seat. 

Ah, so he still drinks Hoseok’s old favourite tea of choice. Fascinating. 

Hoseok tries to not think of how he now owns various things simply because they remind him of Namjoon and Yoongi… like the stack of poetry books currently residing in a box in the bedroom closet, or the basketball he takes out every few weeks to the court downstairs... or the little Ryan sticker collection he’s accumulated, and the vintage record player he now owns. He tries to not think about the tattoo just over his heart, the one he got in a weak moment where all he wanted was to see them again but couldn't risk their safety to do it.

Nope. He doesn’t let himself dwell on any of that…

“Yeah, I think I might. The kids are fond of that kind,” Jimin answers thoughtfully, rummaging in the cabinets to find a box. 

If the moment wasn’t so tense, he thinks he’d laugh at the way Yoongi stiffens at the word “kids,” while Namjoon’s eyes go big. Hoseok doesn’t bother to correct their assumption, though. His only job is to answer the questions they do have, not to offer too much more info, unless it's conversational. He’ll definitely let Jimin take the lead on what information to share, too, though he'll pipe up to make sure it doesn't seem suspicious. Hoya is quiet, mostly reserved. That’ll make playing his part even easier. He does hate how easily he’s inclined to fall back into his old self around them, though. It takes extra care for him to maintain a composed face, to not give them anything to suspect he's lying. 

“Kids…?” Namjoon asks, raising a brow over at him specifically. 

“Oh! That’s what we call our younger flatmates,” Jimin exclaims with a small, cheerful laugh that Hoseok echoes. It's not entirely ingenuine coming from him, either, and the fond smile curling onto his lips is _definitely_ not forced. He really does love them like family. 

He decides it wouldn't be too out of character for him to elaborate, so he chimes in. "Jimin and I like to joke that we've adopted them. They’re quite the chaotic pair, but we love them,” he finishes. Both the men across from him look visibly relieved, and well... Hoseok is glad to give them a little piece of mind. He glances around for a photo of those two to share with them. He walks over to a cork board loaded with pictures and takes one off to pass to the two detectives. He walks back over to them, passing the photo off to Yoongi, and god is it hard being so _close_ yet so far from them. “That one’s Taehyung, and his boyfriend is Jungkook.” His slim finger points out each of them as Yoongi holds the photo up for him and Namjoon to see. 

“Oh, gotcha,” Yoongi murmurs, thoughtfully looking at the picture. Namjoon peers over his shoulder for only a moment before pulling back with a shrug. “How long have you known them?” 

“Mmm, I’d reckon… maybe three years now?” Hoseok pretends to think it over, though he knows exactly when he met them without a doubt. It’d be hard to forget, honestly. Way too much happened all at once that night. 

“You’re close, love! It hasn't yet been three years,” Jimin adds from the kitchen. “We adopted them when Taehyung’s parents disowned him for... coming out. Jungkook’s family isn’t the most well off, otherwise I reckon they’d have taken him in. Jungkook's parents are lovely people, and love Taehyung, too. Hoya and I are financially quite secure, not having to pay rent, so it was the least we could do.” He busies himself pouring hot water from the electric kettle, making everyone a cup of tea. “What kind of tea would you like?” he asks Yoongi. 

“Um… peppermint is fine for me, too,” the blonde answers him, while he hands Hoseok the picture. He puts it in the breast pocket of his black button down shirt before he heads into the kitchen to help him carry the steaming hot mugs. 

"I'm sorry Taehyung had to go through that," Namjoon says, a pained look on his face... maybe remembering when Hoseok first came out, and how much heat he received from everyone over it. That was a hard time for him, and Namjoon... was his biggest supporter at the time, at least besides Dawon. Thankfully the other people that mattered in his life came around to be accepting in time. By the time Namjoon came out, everyone had already worked out their weird feelings with Hoseok, so his was a bit of an easier time. Taehyung's story is vastly different, though, because that's not the _real_ reason his family cast him out. They couldn't care less that he's gay. Hoseok can't share that, though.

"Yeah, sometimes people are rubbish," Hoseok murmurs, watching Jimin throw away all of the teabags. “Jimin-ah, allow me,” he offers, gingerly taking the handles of all four mugs, two in each hand. His barista experience is on full display, showing off the skill it takes to balance all of them without spilling a drop. The ceramic is frightfully hot to the touch, yet the burn doesn't hurt him. 

He carries them over to the small coffee table in the center for their living room, carefully setting them down on the table. Jimin brings a small container of sugar and a bottle of honey, setting them next to the mugs. Of course, his cup of yorkshire tea is already made the way he likes. Just a splash of milk, no sweetener… and today, the favour they called in from Seokjin. Jimin's drinking the same tea as him, only he's got a bit of a sweet tooth compared to Hoseok. There’s a distinct colour difference between his and Jimin’s tea from Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s, almost like a tangible representation of the differences between them now.

"Please help yourselves to whatever sweetener you need," Jimin says, passing each of them a small teaspoon. 

Once everything is set in front of them, Hoseok moves back to sit next to Jimin, sort of intentionally sitting closer to him than he usually would while Namjoon spoons some sugar into his tea. Physical affection typically makes other people uncomfortable, and it’s a subtle way to distract them from asking the questions he might struggle to answer. It’s not like it really matters, flaunting his relationship with Jimin. That’s also sort of the purpose of their relationship— to protect each other from the ghosts of their past. Hoseok and Jimin pretend to be madly in love, when… What little is left of Hoseok’s heart probably belongs to those two seated across from him, and Jimin’s in denial of his love for their two “kids.” Hoseok understands not wanting to touch that topic, though, because he wouldn't either. Between the soulmate bonds and reincarnation drama, Hoseok would be terrified to bring it up, too. So as long as Jimin needs him to play pretend, he will. Hoseok will be the perfect husband to him, and vice versa. Their agreement is solid ground when everything else is blurry. 

He fights the urge to drape himself over Jimin’s back, suddenly feeling tired though he barely worked five hours today. Then again, the two of them stayed up well past three in the morning... and work started for him at eight. He still has a rehearsal tonight at five o'clock, so he's got the right to be exhausted. Instead of being too clingy, though, he drinks from his tea, not waiting for it to cool in the slightest. The flavours of black tea and milk dancing on his tongue remind him of the cosy cottage he and Jimin lived in whilst in Southampton. It reminds him of when he was more or less reborn, choosing for himself what kind of future he wanted. There was a certain promise for the future, back then. Back then, when he chose to recreate himself, it seemed as if the options were limitless. It didn't take long for his demons to catch up to him, though. 

“So… what is it you wanted to ask us?” Hoseok asks, greedily drinking more of his tea. It’s made just right, and the taste has become one of his creature comforts on stressful days. He can hardly taste the additional ingredient, to which he’s grateful. It’d be a shame to not enjoy an ordinarily good cuppa. His eyes refocus on the his two previous roommates, taking in their expressions with acute detail. The brunette looks a bit stiff, though not entirely uncomfortable, while Yoongi reminds him of a stray cat, cautious and jittery, but not to be messed with. 

“Mmm, well…” Yoongi begins, staring down at the steaming cup of tea in his hands. He cradles it with both hands, like he’s trying to absorb its warmth. “How long have you two known each other?” His gaze goes back up to Hoseok, and if he was less careful, he would have winced seeing that look cross his face. He looks so… pained. This conversation can’t be easy for them, either, and Yoongi has never been good at hiding his pain. Not from Hoseok, at least. Maybe that hasn’t changed much with time… unlike so many other things. 

“Ah, I’ve known Hoya since we were children,” Jimin answers, smoothly and charismatically. Namjoon accepts the answer with a resolute nod, while the blonde next to him clenches his fists. Hoseok is moderately surprised Yoongi's not buying it yet, because Jimin's ability to lie is impeccable. Nobody every questions him, because it's as easy as breathing to him, coming from _years_ of experience and wisdom. On that regard, Hoseok has so much catching up to do. It helps, though, that he can piggy back off of him. If it was him alone, he'd be fucked. It's hard enough keeping a neutral face in front of them right now. "I think I might have an album I stole from my mum. I think I know where it might be," he says, setting his tea down in favour of standing up and walking over to one of the large bookshelves on the opposite wall from the telly. He pulls down an old, worn leather photo album in a muted red. Putting this together was his project while Hoseok was at work. 

Seeing the album for the first time, Hoseok smiles fondly at it. Jimin’s so crafty and capable of selling the most convincing of stories. And god, as he shows off some of these pictures, he definitely is impressed. They look legitimate. Then again, he supposes it was actually Jin’s expertise to make them this realistic, though the photographs themselves were most certainly selected by Jimin. A couple of photos aren't new, ones that they crafted ages ago for a social media post. “These are of Hoya and I in our old primary school uniforms. I think we met when we were five? It was at school for sure,” he says, laying the album flat on the table for their guests to see. 

“Have the two of you been together that whole time?” Namjoon asks, looking over the photos on the current page. Hoseok pretends to be embarrassed by some of them, particularly the ones of a child that resembles him splashing around in a bathtub naked. 

"For the most part, yes," Hoseok chimes in, acting sheepish at some of these ridiculous photographs. "Must you show them _these_ photos? They're so bloody embarrassing," he mumbles, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"How could I not? We're adorable. Especially you, look at those rosy cheeks," Jimin coos, turning to him to pinch his cheeks. The banter feels comfortable; it doesn't feel like acting, and it helps him feel a bit more at ease with this whole thing, so he keeps it up, despite how rude it is to ignore their guests. Hoseok bats his hands away lightly, scrunching his face in protest. 

"Just put those photographs away! They don't care about our childhood, I reckon," he quips, rolling his eyes as he pulls back from him and those silly grabby hands he's making. 

"Are you sure about that?" Jimin asks, a cheeky grin on his lips as he looks over at the two on the couch. They do look enraptured, and surprisingly even more comfortable than before, so Hoseok feels a little less bad for indulging in the moment. Maybe it was good for them that he did, too, because that stifling awkward politeness was getting too much even for him, and he's used to acting like that as Hoya.

"Ugh, if you weren't older than me, I'd..." he trails off, grumbling to himself. 

"You'd what, love?" the blonde next to him asks, a teasing taunt in his voice. Thank fuck for Jimin providing him with one moment of silliness to help him get through the shit show he's currently in. 

"I'd do something that's inappropriate to say around guests," he says, crossing his arms. He can't stop the fond smile on his lips from forming, though.

"Hmph, now you choose to be polite," Jimin chides before taking a generous sip of his tea.

"Ya, it isn't my fault you caught me after work. I've been quite grouchy all day. You know I was up late last night studying," he says, shaking his head before sipping his own tea. "Anyway, my apologies. Have you got any questions to ask? Please spare me the embarrassment of looking at my baby photos again." This time, looking at the two of them doesn't feel so heavy, as if that moment of banter released some of the pressure building in the atmosphere. It looks like it did them some good, too. Yoongi is no longer sitting up rigidly straight, and he leans back against the couch. Namjoon's long legs are now stretched out. They both look so much more relaxed, which makes it easier for Hoseok to not feel so on edge. 

"You never really did answer Namjoon's question," Yoongi says, blowing lightly on his peppermint tea before taking a cautious sip. "Have you two been together since childhood?" 

“Mostly," he says with a shrug. "The two of us grew up in Southampton, but his parents divorced shortly after his thirteenth birthday. When he moved to London, I was broken hearted. We kept in touch though, and eventually I convinced my parents to let me attend the same college as him. Since then, we've stuck to one another like glue. A few years ago, my mum got a really good job opportunity here, so my parents chose to make the journey across the pond. Eventually Jimin and I decided to follow them..." he trails off, his voice growing heavy with faux sorrow. In actuality, the two people who posed as Hoseok's parents are very much still alive, also living in a complicated, tangled web of lies of their own. He'll forever be grateful to them for pretending to be his parents for the short while that they did. It was nice to have other people to talk to about things besides Jimin. They'll never come close to his real parents, but they did an excellent job being surrogates to him. He should probably give them a ring sometime, see how things are going for them. 

“I know it’s probably a sore subject, but what exactly happened to them?” Yoongi asks, his voice tender as he does so. The look in his eyes is still skeptical, but it looks far less guarded than it did upon his entry. Namjoon looks like his normal level of awkwardness... like when he meets new people for the first time. His lies... are working. He doesn't know if he feels happy or terrible about it. 

Hoseok lets out a sigh before leaning back into Jimin’s comforting embrace. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, pretending to struggle for words. It’s his "husband" who intervenes this time. “They died nearly three months ago now, in a traffic accident. If you want details, I suggest you ask me privately.” His voice is tender and he rubs loving circles into Hoseok’s back. The touch is comforting, though it’s mostly for show. Hoseok's favourite way to be comforted is by fingers running through his hair... but that's something both men across from him know, and he can't show them that. He can't show them the few ways he's still the same. His job is to crush any hope of him being Hoseok, so they stay far, far away from him and stay _safe_.

“It’s alright, Jim,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze downcast in anguish that's not for show, but is twisted into a well crafted lie. “They were killed by a drunk driver in Capitol Hill. My parents were biking when they were hit… The driver ended up being rear-ended, too. Everything was just a disaster.” The words, though he knows they’re a lie, come out smooth as glass. He closes his eyes, trying to refrain from his conscience winning over. The words may come out smoothly, delivered just as intended, and yet… they come at a toll. He’s lying to the two people he was once most honest to. People who just want to find him. 

God, what a disaster indeed. The tear that falls down his cheek catches him by surprise, though it could help sell the story so he doesn’t bother to stop it. He really needs to get a grip, because crying so often doesn't help him and only makes everything worse. It draws too much attention to him and he _hates_ that. Jimin’s hand is on his cheek instantly, wiping the teardrop away. He peels his eyes open and gives a small smile to Jimin, humming his thanks, even though he feels so uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him. 

“Sorry we brought it up,” Namjoon comments, reaching out towards him like he wants to give him comfort, but withdrawing his hand after a second of thought.

 _I don’t deserve your comfort,_ Hoseok thinks to himself, wishing this would just end. He thought he could do this, but now he's not so sure, and the longer they sit here like this... the more lies he tells, the more cracks form in the mask he wears. 

His heart feels like it’s wrapped up in thorns, and every word exchanged between them is pulling them tighter, causing the sharp edges to dig deeper. His heart is bleeding what little is left. 

He doesn’t want to look at Yoongi, whose eyes feel like they’re staring straight into the void where his soul once was. He doesn’t want to look at Namjoon, the face that has been there through nearly everything until four something years ago. He doesn’t want to face his guilt for not returning to them, or for lying to them right now. He doesn't want to see the ghost of who he was staring back at him through their eyes. Subconsciously, he leans further back into Jimin’s embrace, so thankful he’s there because there's no _way_ he could do this without him. 

He really needs to stop crying and get this over with. It’s probably been long enough that he can move onto their next phase. The last step is the one that'll be the final nail in the coffin. It'll keep them away for good. His life can go back to the way it was before, and maybe they'll finally move on. That's a good thing, he tells himself. 

He wipes his own tears this time, sniffling slightly. “It’s fine,” he answers, though his tone is rather flat. “Have you got any other questions?” The question is asked with a nicer tone, though. 

Yoongi and Namjoon both look like they want to leave, exchanging glances between one another. Though he used to know both of them like the backs of his hands, he doesn’t anymore. He can’t read those expressions with devastating accuracy anymore. He hates how much it hurts. He hates how lost he still is, though he has a place. This apartment they're standing in is where he belongs. Not with them. Why does he feel so empty, seated across from them? Maybe he’s just hollow now, nothing inside him will ever be the same. 

If he was once a willow tree, tangling his branches with Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s, on May 19th, 2015, he was lit on fire, forever changed. Everything inside him is blackened and burnt, other parts of him are crumbling to ash, and while those two probably bear their own hardships… they’re still growing, changing, and adapting. They’ve grown new branches, new sprigs, and new leaves in his absence. They’re still very much alive. The fire that burnt him never touched them, thank god. 

He should be happy, seeing that they’re okay, that they still miss him, that he clearly still means _something_ to them. All he feels is pain, though. He’s hurt upon seeing a glimpse of their lives without him. He aches to hold them again, when he knows they have each other to hold now. Even though he means something to them, it’ll never be the way he once wanted… probably still wants if he lets himself be truthful. It burns his heart to admit he doesn’t know them anymore. Years of changes stand between them now, and none of them can be traversed easily. They're on two diverging paths, and between them is a field of bramble bushes, thorny and sharp. They aren't meant to walk together anymore. 

Hoseok wishes he wasn’t alive to see this. Jimin’s tried so hard to pull him out of his cloud of depression, but he doesn’t feel like it is working long term... not with how easily he falls at the mere presence of them. Mentally he’s not sure he can handle this. It’s as if he’s standing on a worn down, rope bridge above a chasm. Beneath him is all of his fears, self hatred, and pain. Every step forward on the bridge is wobbly, uncertain. He’s nearly fallen through the cracks back down into that bottomless pit. Right now, he can feel something about to snap. The question is… will he fall down into that dark place yet again? 

“Breathe,” Jimin murmurs into his ear. “Love, do you need a minute?” he asks, caressing his cheek with a creased brow. He’s certainly worried, and this part isn’t an act at all. Jimin has always been so good at reading him when he’s spiraling down. 

Hoseok feels guilty for that, too. After all, what good does he actually do for him? All he does is mooch off of him and make him worry. All he does is bring heavy, dark storm clouds to his otherwise mostly bright and sunny skies. Hoseok feels like a hurricane, going from fine one moment to being wildly out of control the next. He's made of rain, of wind, of lightning. His emotions are anything but consistent, and god, he can't even show it. He can't let go of the tempest raging within, he has to contain it and _keep his face neutral_... at least long enough to get away from them. 

“I think I shall,” he answers softly. He places a peck on Jimin’s plush lips before getting up, not sparing a glance at either Yoongi or Namjoon, and makes a break for the bathroom. He swings the door shut, thankful for the moment of privacy. 

If he was still human, he’d be hyperventilating right now. His heart would be pounding, and the blood would be rushing behind his ears, making it difficult to hear anything besides his own panic. Except now, he can hear the faintest of sounds if he tries— the sips everyone in the previous room takes from their respective mugs, the quiet breathing coming from each of them. He can hear the elevated heartbeats of both men from his past. He can clearly hear Jimin apologising to them on his behalf, saying he always gets like this whenever his parents are brought up, though the words are said in a whisper that a human wouldn’t be able to hear from so far away. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the city streets below, despite how well sound proofed their apartment is. 

He can smell them, too. Even though he’s down a hallway with a door closed, he can still smell their scents with dizzying potency. Namjoon’s spicy, woody scent smells even more intoxicating now, almost searing his nose as he breathes. In contrast, Yoongi’s is so cool scented, reminiscent of eucalyptus and coconut and something he can’t place, but is every bit as alluring as Namjoon’s, flooding his entire being with longing. He can smell how mixed their scents are, too. He can smell Namjoon’s scent on Yoongi, and vice versa. The sandalwood and cedar mixes weirdly well with Yoongi’s coconut milk and medicinal scent... _That only means one thing._

Hoseok stares at his reflection in the mirror, clenching his fists tightly at the rim of the sink. Hatred floods his veins at what he sees. He hates the pallor of his pale skin, his razor sharp teeth, his dark as night eyes. He detests his thin and bony frame. He despises the lack of heartbeat in his chest. He hates that all he seems to wear is black like his soul. He looks like a ghost— not at all like the person from Namjoon’s photos, and yet this _is_ him. This is what he’s become now, and what he will always be. Maybe this is why he’s steadily becoming obsessed with tattoos— his body will never change again unless he alters it with magic. 

He hates that he’s so predatorial now. Everything strong about him is designed to kill. His unnatural strength, his sharp teeth, his hypnotic eyes, his impossible speed, his heightened sense of smell. He used to want to spread nothing but positivity, to be some sort of beacon of hope and light. Oh how far he’s fallen, like Icarus flying too close to the sun. His wings have melted, and he’s crashed back on Earth… only unlike Icarus, he has to exist with the pain, forced to witness his failure. Now he will never be that again, nor will he ever try to be. 

Hoseok is a liar and a killer. 

A monster. 

_A vampire._

There is no coming back from that. 

He refrains from punching the reflection he hates so much, and chooses to instead collapse on the floor, leaning his back against the cabinets. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the image of his reflection to disappear. No more tears are shed, as if they’ve all dried up for the moment. He tries to not make a sound, already feeling the shame settle in for not being able to control himself. Jimin will be worried. He won’t be able to look at the kids for fear that they will see what a fucking mess he is, how unreliable and worthless. 

Worthless. 

That’s a good word for him. 

He bites down so hard on his lower lip that he can taste his own blood. He holds back a bitter laugh at the thought— none of this blood is rightfully his. It’s all second handed from the humans Jimin and Becky feed on because he can’t bring himself to drink directly from a human again. 

The taste of blood has never been so pungent before, and yet he’s still sucking on it greedily, getting every last drop he can before the wound can heal. The concoction Jin made has made his body far more vulnerable than usual, and he thinks maybe that’s why his blood tastes so repulsive. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from going for it, agitating the wound to keep it bleeding. Another wave of shame washes over him and he hates himself for it. Why can’t he just fucking get over everything? The kids have come to terms with it, and Taehyung literally had to deal with his _entire_ family besides Seokjin turning their backs on him for what he became… when it wasn’t even his choice to be turned. Jungkook was only a human but chose to be turned just to stay by Taehyung’s side. Jimin is unashamed and unapologetic for what he is now. Why can’t Hoseok catch up? Why is he such a mess? 

He looks at his frail-looking inner right wrist, the one that doesn't have any ink, and remembers the pain of the knife _she_ used on him. He remembers how his mind would go blank when she hurt him like that, and wants his mind to go blank again. The pain of a knife was far preferable to the pain inside his head... inside his heart. He brings his left nails to his wrist, wondering how little effort it would take to break the skin there now that the potion's done its job, making his skin just as soft and as breakable as a human's. 

He almost lets himself do it, too, until he remembers that the wound wouldn't have time to heal before he has to return to being "Hoya." A perfect dancer, a mostly quiet, somewhat melancholy person... and most certainly not anything similar to Hoseok. That part, thankfully, isn't hard to do. Hoseok doesn't feel anything like the same person anymore anyway. All he is now is a useless, needy, depressed monster. 

_Stop, stop, stop,_ he tells himself, clenching his fists to refrain from scratching his veins. He needs to calm down. He can’t spiral like this right now. He can’t. If he fucks this up, things will only be _worse._ If he can barely handle this, he can't make things any harder on himself. Later behind closed doors, in the dance studio long after everyone else has gone home, he can let it go. _But not now._

He desperately tries to think of the things that calm him down. He lets himself remember the beautiful sunsets at Audrey McCall beach back home in Portland. He remembers the hues of pinks and blues streaking the sky, bathing the city scape in warm, promising light. Behind his eyelids, he thinks of the bright fluorescent lights of London Heathrow International Airport when he and Jimin touched down in England for the first time, and he didn't know how magical the world still was despite what happened to him. He thinks of the cottage he shared with Jimin in Southampton, where his heart learned to love life again. He reminds himself of the exhilarating feeling of performing his first ever dance showcase as Hoya, how it felt to be under the lights and standing on a stage. His life may be awful, but it has good in it, too. Those things are good, and he needs to hold onto them. 

If he's standing on a rope bridge above a chasm, those memories are like a safety net, ready to catch him if the bridge gives out. It's okay to fall, because he won't stay down. And right now, he can get up. 

Little by little, he finds himself calming down. He hopes he’s not taking too long in here, he doesn’t want to cause a delay. He’s got a five hour long rehearsal tonight, he can’t miss it. Not with his solo coming up tomorrow night at the showcase. 

It’s thinking about dancing that helps him calm down the most. The structure, the routine, the counts… they're consistent. They're all encompassing, demanding all of his focus. When he dances, he can't help but give the choreography his all. It doesn't matter how sad he is... or how happy he is. When he's dancing, he's lost in the beats, the feeling of his muscles moving, of expressing whatever the stage demands of him. It's the one place he feels like he's in control of himself, his life, of the way people perceive him. Once he’s recovered enough, he turns the sink on and splashes some cold water on his face. 

He can get through this last part with them, and once they’re gone, he’ll probably never have to see them again. He’ll be okay. His life will settle back down, and it'll be him, Jimin, the kids, Becky, and Jin. Things will mellow out, and they can go back to focusing on catching the monster who made him what he is now. 

Hoseok inhales deeply before twisting the door handle open, and making his way back to his spot next to Jimin. “Sorry about that,” he says politely. “Sometimes talking about my parents works me up. Have I missed anything?” 

“It’s okay, Hoya… I understand what that’s like,” Yoongi says timidly, a sincere look in his eyes, finally replacing the cautious look from earlier. “I’m sorry for your loss. My parents died in a crash, too.” There’s an earnest look in his eyes, and Hoseok nods solemnly. He knows that the death of his parents still haunts Yoongi, probably always will. Hoseok tries to ignore the guilt of having added to his trauma, though that’s a bitter pill to swallow. Perhaps the way he said that suggests he believes his story, which is good. 

“Thank you… you have my condolences as well," he says, letting the frigid politeness come back over him because it's safer than letting himself dwell on any feelings. His seat next to Jimin is cold as he settles in it. 

"Thanks," Yoongi says, dropping his gaze. It's the look of a man who's lost everything.

Hoseok tries to not think about how it's him who took it everything away from him. Not feeling is better. There's no guilt if he doesn't feel anything. There's no pain if he lets his mind go blank. This is nothing more than a role he's playing. If he pretends he's not hurting them, he'll get through it. If he pretends he's not hurting himself, he'll be fine. 

Jimin clears his throat and gives a small, uncertain smile to the group. "Do you have anymore questions? I think by now, you know that Hoya isn't the person you're looking for," he says, his voice full of genuine sympathy for the two detectives. "I really am sorry about your friend, though."

Namjoon shifts and gives a small shrug. The air in the room is tense again, and it's almost as if he doesn't want to break it. 

"I guess you're right," the blonde man says, finishing off his cup of tea.

"There's an easier way to settle this," Hoseok says with a sigh. "You're welcome to take a sample of my DNA. I'm a bit... burnt out socially," he adds, sheepishly rubbing his neck. It's not all just an act, either. From his peripheral, he can tell that Jimin is still visibly worried. Hoseok really isn’t sure how much more of this he can take, and honestly though Jimin means well, it’s adding to his unease. He really doesn’t do nearly enough for Jimin to fuss over him so much. His guilt will only grow with the state he’s currently in... and he can't bear to see how sad the two men across from him are as the lies leave his lips like breathing.

The surprise on both Namjoon and Yoongi’s respective faces is evident, and Hoseok supposes that they didn’t expect an offer. He probably hasn’t done the best job convincing them he’s just Hoya… fuck. He really can’t afford to have them poking around too much more, or it’ll draw the wrong kind of attention to them. The idea that this whole nightmare has been for nothing makes him feel a surge of urgency. He needs to prove to them he's not Hoseok...

He doesn’t want to resort to compulsion, though. He really, really, really is against it ever since it was used on him when he was human… 

“Have I said something funny?” Hoseok asks, laying the accent a little thicker on the sentence, raising a brow over at the two humans residing on the couch. 

“No… we just didn’t expect you to offer that,” Namjoon says, shaking his head slightly. “But yeah, that’d be good, if you don’t mind at all.” 

“Thank you, Hoya,” Yoongi says, dipping his head slightly out of respect. He has an indecipherable look on his face, though, like his face is made of stone rather than flesh, blood, and bone. 

If Hoseok had to guess, he’s convinced Namjoon already that it isn’t him. Hoseok has an advantage over him, after having known him for so very long. He knows just the right things to say and do to get that logical brain of his to write him off as a stranger. Yoongi, though… he’s always been so strikingly intuitive, and he understands more than anyone how some fucked up moments in life can change a person. Hoseok isn’t so sure giving his DNA will be enough to get him to stop chasing and believe he’s just a stranger who coincidentally looks just like his old roommate from university. When Yoongi believes in something, nothing gets in his way. He's not so easy to control or manipulate, even if it's in his own best interest.

He wishes he’d take the massive hint and stop digging. He doesn’t realize the danger he’s putting himself (and Namjoon by extension) in right now by poking around this. 

“It’s no skin off my back,” Hoseok answers with a casual shrug of his shoulders, doing everything he can to _be_ Hoya Park. The only way this will work is if he becomes his story, let it become truth. He has to convince him. Failure isn't an option, not with his life potentially hanging in the balance. “I don’t know of anywhere that would offer to test it, except perhaps the bio students at my uni,” he says, pretending to think out loud, when in actuality all of this was well rehearsed. 

“No, no, it’s fine. We know where we can get it tested,” Yoongi says with a shake of his head. “You’ve already offered us a lot of information, we can take it from here.” 

Hoseok knows it’s because he doesn’t trust it to not be doctored— which thankfully he and Jimin already anticipated, hence the potion Jimin added in the tea he drank earlier, courtesy of their friendly neighborhood witch. “Alright then. Do you need my blood or a fingerprint or something? I’m afraid I don’t know much about these things,” he says indifferently. 

“Blood is probably the easiest to test, there’s less room for error,” Namjoon comments quietly. “Do you have a paper towel and a sewing needle? It’d barely be a prick. I do recommend a band-aid and rubbing alcohol, too.” 

This also feels like a test… Hoseok used to be horribly uncomfortable at the sight of blood, to the point he’d get faint if he looked at it too much. Perhaps Namjoon isn’t as convinced as he initially thought. Fuck. “Alright, that’s fine with me,” he answers back, putting a meticulous amount of effort into coming across as unaffected. 

“I’ll go collect those things, I think I know where my repair kit is,” Jimin chimes in, running a soothing hand down Hoseok’s spine as he adjusts to sit all the way up. “I’ll be right back.” 

The emotions he's been struggling so hard with controlling feel like a pot of boiling water, simmering and attempting to boil over. He keeps most of it in, but the occasional drop escapes. Being left alone with them is hell in its own way, testing the limits of his control. He wants so badly to just say fuck it and tell them everything. He wants to tell them he loves them, and misses them, and would give anything to go back to his old life. But there are a number of reasons he can’t. The biggest being his own fear. He fears they will hate him once they’ve heard his story. The two of them are detectives— he remembers from when he looked them up a couple of years ago. Namjoon is a missing persons detective, while Yoongi is a homicide detective. Hoseok has killed before— no fucking way would they ever accept that. Hoseok hates himself for it, surely they would, too, considering they’ve dedicated their lives to putting criminals like him behind bars. 

Hoseok is a coward, he knows, but he can’t bring it in himself to tell the truth. It’s one thing for him to hate himself, but two people who once meant the world to him hating him, too… he could never recover from that. 

And maybe he shouldn’t recover. He doesn't deserve to, and if he ends everything, he removes a huge complication from everyone's lives. Things would be so much easier if he was gone.

But the promise he made Jimin halts that line of thinking. Killing himself now wouldn’t fix anything, and he owes Jimin so much that he can find the strength to live for him, even when he doesn't want to. 

_“Promise me that whenever you’re feeling suicidal, you’ll stop and think of me. Think of how much I appreciate you, how much joy you bring into my life. I can be my honest self with you, something I haven’t been in far too long. Think of how far I've come, thanks to you. You are the reason I've made so much progress. Think of the future, when the pain stops and you’ll be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it will ever happen, but it_ will _happen someday. And if in ten years, you still want to die… I’ll let you go. I’ll be with you until the very end. Just give me that much.”_

The reminder of that day gives him strength. He can do this. He has just a little bit longer left with them, and once they're gone, this hard moment will pass with them. If this is the last time he sees them, he wants to commit it to his memory. His gaze drifts back to the two men before him, letting himself take in their image. The silvery blonde hair on Yoongi makes him look so charming, and handsome despite the crestfallen expression on his features. He still wears earrings in all of the places he pierced, and doesn't have any new ones since their college days. His clothes are still a size too big for him, and still in a comfortable looking style. As a matter of fact, he’s even wearing the grey sweatshirt Hoseok bought him for the first birthday Yoongi spent being his roommate. And Namjoon, god, he’s aged so well. He’s less gangly and noodley, he looks so handsome, like some sort of model in a Korean fashion magazine. His height suits him now that he’s filled out and grown confidence in himself. His brown hair brings out the boyish charm he had back when they were only in high school… back when Hoseok first realised his crush. His big, round glasses are both stylish and studious, perfectly summarizing the unique style he owns. 

If this is the last time he sees them, he doesn’t want to be all moody and depressing. He wants it to be comfortable, but he doesn't know how to do that. He doesn't know how to make this okay because it's not. 

When Jimin comes back with everything in hand, he gives it all to Namjoon. “Here you are,” he says. “Is there anything you need me to do?” he asks him. 

“Hmm… Hoya, are you queasy with blood?” the brunette asks, gently taking his hand. 

It’s such a small touch, but his hand is so warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. His heart aches harder, wishing he could hold it and pull him closer. He wants to be enveloped in him, his forest-like scent… and Yoongi’s, too. He wants to go home, and it hurts being so close yet so very far. _You're doing this for them_ , he reminds himself desperately. 

“Er… not really, no. I reckon getting tattoos and piercings hurt a lot worse,” he says, trying to refrain from clutching his hand tightly. His instincts normally are designed to kill, but right now, it's almost as if he's not a vampire. He's just like a lovesick teenager, harmless and pining, for the two men he loves. If only it was that easy. 

“I suppose Jimin doesn’t have anything to do, then. This should only take a second,” he says softly, a half-hearted smile on his lips. He folds the paper towel in two and splits it down the middle. On one side, he drips some rubbing alcohol and then picks up the needle, giving it the same treatment. One of his hands takes his index finger, gently cleaning it. The whole thing is very clerical and not intimate in the slightest, but Hoseok feels so overwhelmed being so maddeningly close to him for the first time in years. How the hell can he push him away? 

_You have to, for his own safety,_ he reminds himself. In just seconds, his finger is pricked, dripping scarlet white blood onto the clean, white paper towel. He watches it stain, finding the whole thing morbidly amusing… a vampire giving blood to a human. His eyes flick back upward towards Namjoon, who’s very gentle as he squeezes his fingertip, as if he’s fragile and delicate. 

His body certainly isn’t, but his heart is… and it would be easier if he hadn’t been so careful and tender. If he’d been rough, maybe Hoseok would be distracted by the pain on his hand rather than the pain in his heart. 

Once he's gotten enough, he’s careful and quick to sanitize the small wound and place a bandage over it. It must have taken him a considerable amount of concentration to be this nimble, unless his clumsiness has been cured in the time Hoseok has been absent from their lives. He highly doubts that.

“Is that it, then?” he asks, raising his head to look at Yoongi, who seems a little antsy. He’s fidgeting a little more so than usual, picking at a loose thread in his shirt. He probably wants to leave just as badly as Hoseok wants them to… only he’s actually rather conflicted on that. If they leave and he never sees them again… they’ll be better off. He won’t be, though. 

“That’s it,” the tallest of them says, gently patting his hand before pulling his own hands away. Hoseok already misses their warmth. “Thank you for everything today, Hoya. You, too, Jimin. I think we’ll head out now, we’ve got some plans later tonight.” 

Yoongi stands up in sync with Namjoon, and their hands take no time to find one another’s. Watching them together like this, it's like they've got their own language in the way they move. The fair skin of Yoongi’s fingers lace with Namjoon’s sun kissed ones… doing the very thing Hoseok longed he could get away with. It feels right, that those two ended up together in his absence. He should have always seen it coming... and he should be happy for it. “Thanks for the chat and the tea,” the blonde says, sincerity in his tone, though he looks quite uncomfortable again, just like he did when they first entered the apartment. Hoseok feels transparent under those eyes.

“No problem,” he murmurs, trying to not let anyone see how hurt he is, how left out he feels. What little composure he scrounged up to face the last bit of time together is quickly giving way to his heartache. 

“Would you like me to drop you somewhere?” Jimin asks politely, shifting a little so he can rest a hand on the base of Hoseok’s back. The touch is good and comforting… but it’s not the one he’s craving. Does Jimin feel like this when Hoseok touches him? Does he wish it was Taehyung and Jungkook, even though there would be hundreds of things for them to talk about and work through beforehand? Hoseok wonders if he’s actually the one one holding him back now. The thought is entirely illogical, but he can't shake the new rush of guilt that hits him like a freight train. His emotions aren't logical.

His brain is hardwired, dead set against him. Negativity comes flooding back, washing over all of his thoughts, tainting them and distorting them.

Unwanted. Worthless. Problematic. 

Ugly. Empty. Dirty. 

_Not yet,_ he thinks to himself. He clings to Jimin’s side, seeking comfort in his proximity and scent. They may not be in love, but they do share a bond not many could understand. He can’t lose sight of it. He can’t forget the fact that Jimin loves him, that he isn’t unwanted. For reasons he can't understand, Jimin wants him in his life. For now, that's enough reason to hold on. 

“It’s fine, we can just get an uber,” Yoongi pipes up, his voice so calm. He’s entirely unaware of how close Hoseok is to losing all composure. 

“Suit yourself. Do be careful out there with the rain, it’s coming down quite hard,” Jimin replies, his eyes flicking over to the window, seeing the downpour. March is a cold and rainy month in Seattle for the most part, like a reflection of his mood.

“We’ll be good, don’t worry,” Namjoon says while he walks to the entryway to reclaim his shoes. The silvery blonde behind him has already changed back into his old white converse. Once Namjoon’s shoes are on him, he follows Yoongi outside, giving a small wave as he exits. Jimin’s the one who returns it, because Hoseok can't keep looking at him. 

Hoseok is just trying to hold it together long enough for them to not overhear him. Namjoon always did have good hearing, so he holds it in as long as he can. His teeth chew on his bottom lip again, this time not quite hard enough to bleed, but mostly because he doesn't want Jimin to see him harming himself. 

Jimin’s hold on him is reassuring, and he presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Hoseok, shhh. It’ll be okay.” His words are so tender, so quiet. They’re full of love he doesn’t deserve. 

His thoughts are rioting against him. He can’t contain them. He can’t bring himself to calm down. All he wants is to sleep… to forget. 

His eyes leak tears again, and Jimin envelopes him in a real hug, not for the eyes of others to see. This hug is real, genuine, and raw. His citrus and vanilla scent is full of warmth and peace, but he feels like he’s tainting it. He’s the opposite of warm now— he’s cold as ice. He’s far from being a piece of peace. His mind and heart are at war with one another. 

Jimin’s hands move to cup either side of his face, and he rests his forehead against his. “I know your thoughts are probably racing, and probably all negative. But you’re doing so well, sunshine. I love you.” He’s so sincere, so fucking good, and far too pure for him. Both of them may have been tainted by the same darkness, but Jimin has overcome it, shed it like a snake shedding it's old skin. Meanwhile the darkness clings to Hoseok like a noose. 

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve them. I… I lied to them. I lie to you whenever I say I’m okay. Jimin… _hyung_ , I’m not okay. I don’t know that I will be again,” he says, clutching him like his life depends on it. He doesn’t want to fall apart, doesn’t want to cry anymore, doesn’t want to feel anything. 

As a vampire, he has a deeper understanding of the psyche and how his brain works. It would be so easy to turn off his conscience, but once it’s off, there’s nearly no reason for him to ever turn it back on. He could easily become the villain that made him this way… and though he’s fallen so far downward, he hasn’t hit that point. Not yet, at least. 

“It’s not about deserving my love, Hoseok-ah,” Jimin answers him, guiding his head to tilt upwards. “Look at me, _please…_ please look at me,” he pleads. Hoseok opens his eyes to see Jimin’s warm brown ones looking back at him, and though one of the pet names he’s called by him is sunshine, Hoseok feels like it suits him far more than it suits himself. He reminds him of his old self, before his life shattered and he was left picking up the pieces of who he used to be.

“You deserve to be happy again someday, despite what’s happened to you. Everything that happened to you now is the poison in your thoughts— not you. This heart right here,” he says, pointing a short finger towards his chest for emphasis, “is pure. And you are loved. Those two men clearly love you to the moon and back. They haven’t forgotten you, they haven’t stopped searching for you. You may have pushed them away today, and I know that hurts, but the reason you chose to do that was to _protect_ them. I honestly don’t think I could have done that had I been in your shoes. You see how I handle things with Tae and Kook. I haven't been able to keep them safe the way you just did. You are so deserving of everything good. I love you. Becky loves you. Jin and the kids also love you. The pain will pass someday. Just hold on, okay? Please just trust us that we love you no matter how badly you feel about yourself. We’ll love you while you learn to love yourself again, and we’ll continue to love you after that. You’re our family, Hoseok.”

Jimin presses a kiss to his lips, likely to try to distract him from the roller coaster of his own thoughts. Ordinarily it would do the trick— not today, though. He feels sluggish in his response, though he’s glad he doesn’t need to attempt to find _words_ to answer with. He’s not capable of finding them right now, so he responds with action. He kisses Jimin back, slipping his tongue into his mouth. This is a familiar dance between them now, which most of the time is good because he doesn’t have to think about it… only that gives his brain time to wander, to stick to the negative thoughts. Hoseok is shaking in his hold, unable to lose himself in their physical intimacy as he normally would. Vampires feel emotions more intensely than humans, but he can’t for the life of him figure out everything he’s feeling at the moment. It’s just all _too much._ He can’t focus on anything except the dizzying sensation of drowning in his thoughts, and the feeling of Jimin’s lips against his. 

And suddenly, there’s a shaky but piercing knock at the door. 

Both Hoseok and Jimin freeze, tensing up. Once his senses come back to him, he recognizes the pattern of the heartbeat. 

It’s Namjoon. 

Fuck. 

Hoseok’s been too far out of it to have been paying any attention to any of the sounds he’s capable of hearing. All of it is typically background noise anyway, and most of the time he can drown it out. Did he let his guard down too soon? When did Namjoon come back up to their apartment? Why isn’t Yoongi with him? His thoughts race at a mile a second pace. 

“I’ll get it,” Jimin whispers, sensing the instant dread flooding Hoseok. 

He nods nervously and feels the need to run away, to hide. If Namjoon heard any of that… there is no plausible way to explain it all as Hoya. Jimin called him by his real name at least once, probably more, not that he was counting. 

Shit. 

_Shit_. 

He can’t bring himself to move, though, as if all of his muscles have tensed up and refused to let him go. He fucked this up. Of course he did. His whole spine shakes violently with fear and panic, and he wishes he could vanish.

“Hello?” Jimin asks, already sounding normal enough despite how distraught and worried his tone was earlier. Hoseok envies how quickly he can change on a whim as needed. Here he is, ready to fall apart and unable to bring back his poker face. 

Namjoon’s tone is everything Jimin’s isn’t… “Where’s Hoseok?” he asks in a deadly serious tone, with so much emotion behind it, it's staggering. “I heard you. _Where. is. he?_ ” Each word of his last question is said with so much emphasis, Hoseok knows there’s no way getting out of this. He can feel himself shrinking internally back.

“I think you’re mistaken. Do you mean Hoya?” Jimin asks, though his perfect charade isn’t perfect this time. Hoseok can hear the distress in his voice, and he feels a little less guilty that he wasn’t the only one caught off guard by Namjoon coming back. 

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, I heard you call him by his real name. Let me see him, or I’ll call the police,” Namjoon threatens, stepping closer to Jimin. 

Oh god. Finally, finally he finds the strength to get out of his daze and move, and get his tongue to work. “L-Let him through,” he says, his voice weak and airy from his heavy breathing. He stumbles ungracefully closer to Jimin at the door. Though his lungs no longer need air, some reactions are thoroughly embedded in the nervous system. The human response to panic still clings to him, manifesting in the only way it can now: rapid inhales and exhales, and shaking frame. 

Jimin steps aside, his gaze instantly going to him with worry etched into his features. He says nothing, though, and the moments he's at a loss for words are so rare.

Laying eyes on Namjoon now that he knows… is devastating. He looks every bit as betrayed as Hoseok imagined he would be if he ever found out he was lying. Fuck if that doesn’t make all of the pain he’s already dealing with so much more intense, so much worse. For a tense moment, Namjoon just walks towards him with that look on his face. Hoseok reflexively tenses up, bracing himself, ready to be hit. That’s what _she_ would have done to him, no doubt. Whenever he made her so angry, he was hurt. Though Namjoon isn’t _her_ , he can't help the reaction. Squeezing his eyes shut, he freezes.

Just when he expects the stinging palm on his cheek, it's the opposite happens. Strong arms wrap around him tenderly, holding him so tightly, so… lovingly. His heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, and guilt at fearing _Namjoon_ of all people hits him at the same time.

He wanted to be enveloped in his scent earlier, and though it’s exactly what he wanted, he finds it so overwhelming, too. The smells of cedar and sandalwood make his mouth water and his teeth throb with need. His fangs ache inside his jaw, yearning to come out, to sink into the smooth flesh of his sensitive neck. He can hear the steady rhythm of Namjoon's heart pounding against his ribcage. He can _hear_ the sound of the blood flowing through his veins, in his jugular that's _way too close to Hoseok's mouth._ His throat feels dry as a desert, and the blood smells like heaven. He purses his lips and stops breathing, holding back all of his primal desires, and lets himself relax into the embrace because it feels like home, and he wants it so bad. He's not the vampire he once was, he could never hurt him that way. The arms around him feel so strong for a human, and they're holding onto him so tight. For just one single moment, he'll let himself have this. Being held by Namjoon feels healing to his exhausted soul. In these arms, he forgets his self-hatred, too absorbed in the moment for him to even be able to think. He hugs him back, careful to not hurt him but he holds onto him like a child clutching his favourite plushie. It feels so good to hold him, to feel his chest pressed against his own, to feel the smoothness of his back against his arms as he holds him tight.

Feeling the steady but racing heartbeat against his chest manages to bring him comfort despite the thirst. Namjoon’s so alive, and healthy, and breathing. In Hoseok's arms, he's safe. He would never let anything happen to him... though it would never be a matter of _letting_ something happen. Too many things are out of his control. This beating heart is what he wants so badly to protect. Namjoon needs to stay this way, which is why Hoseok finally pulls back, eyes wet with tears yet again.

“Joonie, I can’t go home,” he says, somehow finding the courage to look him in the eyes. The distraught expression he wears pains Hoseok's soul, and though this pain feels like a tsunami, he knows he can get through it if it's to protect him. The warmth in his eyes is replaced with fear and confusion. He knows it’s all his fault, so he doesn’t let himself look away. 

“Is he hurting you?” he asks hoarsely, his eyes glowering at Jimin, who’s just standing there looking unsure of himself. 

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Hoseok answers, shaking his head. “Jimin is the one who saved me. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.” He takes a deep breath, ignoring the throbbing of his teeth, and brings a hand to Namjoon’s cheek, guiding his eyes to look back at him. He knows what he needs to do, but he also knows it’ll come at a great cost to himself mentally. _I'd do anything to protect you._

He needs to use compulsion, there's no other way. Namjoon needs to forget this ever happened. He can’t go back and tell Yoongi, or alert any sort of human authorities. Hoseok is no longer part of their world, he needs to accept that. He needs to keep Namjoon away. 

“Hoseok-ah, why can’t you come home?” The way Namjoon’s voice breaks sends daggers to his heart. 

A tear rolls down his cheek and he just shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that I love you and Yoongi and everyone back home. I’ll always be with you, in your thoughts, in your dreams. I never said I love you enough before everything happened... so I’m saying it now,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, standing on his toes to do it. “I love you. I love you enough to let you go and keep you safe.” 

It takes a lot of self control to keep his fangs from protracting, but he can’t let Namjoon see what he’s become. He wants to preserve the image in his head of when Hoseok was alive and full of love for the world. When he pulls back, he brings his second hand up to Namjoon’s other cheek, keeping his head still to keep eye contact. Looking into those brown eyes full of longing is like looking into a mirror... Reflected back at him is all of his yearning, all of his love, all of his pain. This is one reflection he could never bring himself to hate, though.

“Hoseok— why? What are you protecting me from? I can protect myself,” he says, his words frantic, and his hands are clenched securely around his waist. God does that feel so right when everything is all wrong. “Yoongi and I can keep you safe.” His beautiful brown eyes shine with tears, like Hoseok is stealing all of his hope and dreams away from him. 

Caramel coloured hair falls in front of his forehead as he shakes his head. “No, Namjoon… I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_.” The apology is genuine, though his voice cracks as he says the words. 

“Hoseok, whatever it is, just tell me. We can face it together,” he pleads, worry scrunching up his forehead, like he can sense what's about to happen. "Trust me, please." 

It isn't about trust. Even with four long years of changes standing between them like the Great Wall, Hoseok would trust him with everything if it wouldn't jeopardize him and his well being. Though he can't bring himself to voice the thought, not with the panic that Yoongi will come up here any minute with how long they're taking.

Hoseok hates what he needs to do. He hates that he’s capable of controlling someone, that he can make them bend to his will. He hates how predatorial he’s become… how fragile Namjoon is in comparison. But he holds those thoughts back. He needs to do this for everyone's sakes. 

“Look at me and answer my questions,” he demands, dropping his pitch to a low, seductive tone. He doesn’t let their eyes break contact at all. Watching Namjoon’s eyes lock onto his, he can see the fear… and smell it in the air, too. Of course he would fear him. Hoseok is a monster now, after all, and he remembers how it feels to be stripped of your will. “What did you come back for?” 

“My wallet,” Namjoon answers, while his eyes slowly lose focus and go glassy, like a camera lens in the process of adjusting. 

“Where did you leave it?” he asks, his own eyes feeling a strange warmth, like the sensation of sunlight on his skin on a summer day back when he was human. 

“It must have fallen out when I sat on the couch,” the taller man says, his hold on Hoseok going slack as the trance settles over him. 

Fuck, Hoseok feels so rotten on the inside for resorting to this. If lying to them made him feel sick with himself, using this ability makes him feel like he’s dived into acid. He doesn’t see any other alternative, though. Not one that doesn’t involve Namjoon’s death… or worse. He can’t let that happen. He _won’t_.

Though he’s never used compulsion before, he knows exactly what to do… having been on the receiving end of it when he was human. “You came back for your wallet, and you didn’t overhear anything suggesting I’m Hoseok.”

“I came back for my wallet... I didn’t hear anything suggesting you’re Hoseok,” his childhood best friend repeats dreamily, a faraway look in his brown orbs. He’s deep under now, and anything he commands will become truth. Hoseok never wanted to ever use this ability… it’s too much power to hold over someone else. He tells himself it’s worth it to protect him. It has to be. 

“I am Hoya Park,” he states in the low, hypnotic tone that feels foreign on his own lips. 

“You are Hoya Park,” Namjoon echoes. 

“You overheard Jimin and I talking about how we wish you and Yoongi good luck finding Hoseok. Then you knocked— we let you in and helped you look for your wallet. You did not talk to Hoseok. You can feel his love for you, never doubt that. But you don’t think I am Hoseok. When you leave this apartment, you won’t remember this conversation. You’ll only remember the orders I’ve given you. My words will become truth.” The words burn his tongue as they leave, something akin to the burn of cigarette smoke in his lungs. It’s dark, gross, yet strangely addicting. He knows the vampire in him likes the control, likes the power… just like it likes the metallic and salty taste of blood. He has to be stronger than it, though. 

“I will only remember the orders you’ve given me. I overheard you and Jimin wishing Yoongi and I good luck in our search. Then I knocked, and we looked for my wallet together. I didn’t talk to Hoseok, though I can feel the love he has for me. I will never doubt that. You aren’t Hoseok. Once I leave the apartment, I won’t remember this conversation,” he repeats everything back in the same faraway voice. He’s mostly leaning against Hoseok now, which is the only thing keeping him fully upright. "Your words will become the truth."

Hoseok wishes he could unwrite all tragedies as easily as he did here… though this was still far from easy. That’s not how any of this works, though. Nobody can undo the damage done to him. 

“Good, you may leave now,” he says, breaking their intense eye contact by closing his eyes, letting unshed tears fall as he turns his face away from one of the people who he loves more than anything. He needs to go. He can’t be here anymore. He needs to _get out of here._

He finds it impossible to not look back at him, and it's hard to swallow what he sees, knowing he's the cause. The change in Namjoon is instant. His eyes aren’t glazed over anymore... and if anything, he looks more alert than before. No longer is Hoseok needed to support him upright, so he steps back and gives himself a healthy amount of space. It helps him get ahold of himself, less distracted by the pulsing and the scents in the air with the space between them. Jimin walks over to Namjoon, and presses the slim, brown leather wallet into his now empty hand. 

Hoseok got him that as a gift ages ago… to think he still uses it to this day. He shakes the thought away. He can't afford to think about any of this. 

“Oh! Thank you for finding this. Sorry I left it! I should get going now,” he says sheepishly. “Have a good day, Hoya, Jimin.” 

Being called Hoya and seeing no recognition in Namjoon's eyes is another kind of death. Little by little, Hoseok dies every day, and he has to watch as there's nothing left. He's Hoya now. The pain is simmering below the surface, ready to spill over the second he leaves. He wants to erase Hoya's existence, too, but he can't. Not with people counting on him. 

“Ah, wait,” Jimin says, gently grabbing his shoulder. “I know it must be hard for you without your friend, and we’ve probably caused a lot of trouble for you. To make it up to you... If you want, I can get you and Yoongi great seats at Hoya’s dance showcase tomorrow evening. I’ll send you the details over facebook, if that’s alright?” 

Hoseok isn’t sure why Jimin’s doing that— honestly he’d rather never see either of them again, much less see their faces in the audience of his performance. But surely, he’s got a reason that he just doesn't get right now. 

“Uh, sure. Can I see your phone?” Namjoon asks. As soon as it’s handed to him, he’s searching for himself on Jimin’s phone. 

He turns away from the pair, his eyes leaking tears. “I’ve got to go shower,” he says, though his tone isn’t as calm as he’d prefer it to be. It's good that Namjoon can't see his face at all, because it would give away everything. Making a beeline straight for the master room and its ensuite bathroom, he wastes not a single second, stripping all of his clothes off, avoiding looking at the mirror, and getting under the spray of hot water. Here, he can just be alone. He lets the tears fall that he’d been holding back, blending with the steaming hot water. 

It hurts, being so close to them. He hates how pathetic he’s become, how dependent he is on those around him. Even after all these years, he’s still just a fraction of himself. And now, he’s betrayed some of the parts of him he clung to. He’s betrayed Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s memories of the person he used to be. He’s lied to them to the point he’s swimming— more like drowning— in lies. He compelled Namjoon to forget the truth. He only worked up the nerve to confess his love just because he was going to take it all away moments later. Even then, he left it ambiguous enough to be considered platonic. 

He’s such a fucking coward. 

Looking down at his hands, he hates how bony they look. His forearms that once were muscular and defined now look like twigs. His skin isn’t pale because of his vampire status— his skin is pale from the lack of sunlight he endured from months of being trapped in a cold, dark closet as a human. He hates that he looks nothing like how he used to. Sometimes he wishes he could just rip his skin off with how much he despises it. This time, he doesn't stop himself from acting on the urge to dig his nails into his wrist. It doesn't take hardly any pressure, and he digs them in deeper, but not all the way to the vein. Dragging his fingers upwards, he stops halfway up his forearm. While it stings more so than usual, and he can smell the blood... can see it dripping down... it doesn't hurt enough. His mind isn't going blank. The pain doesn't hurt enough to stop the thoughts circling around inside. 

He's a monster. 

A killer. 

A liar.

He deserves to be in pain like this. His eyes go to his other wrist, desperate to make himself hurt... and he freezes upon seeing the tattoo on it. His fingers hover over the soft part of his wrist, but he doesn't dig his nails in. He focuses his eyes on the small airplane tattoo on his inner wrist and cries harder. This is _his_. He chose this for a reason. It means something, and what he's doing right now goes against that message. Nobody forced him to get this... he chose to get this for himself.

Ascendance. Travelling. Moving. 

The things he loves, the things worth living for even when he feels like this. This is exactly why he chose to put the design there, to remind him to stop doing things like this because it's not good for him. 

He brings a finger to trace the design, remembering why he angled the airplane upwards, ascending. It symbolizes a journey not yet at its end… just like him. Right now, he’s going through turbulence. But he’ll arrive at his destination eventually, he _will._ He just has to hold on. 

He closes his eyes and lets the hot water run down his face, washing away the tears. He braces himself against the shower wall to stay upright. It takes so much effort to relax, but he focuses only on his breathing, counting every inhale and every exhale. He focuses on the feeling of the water on his skin, on his scalp. And slowly, as it streams over his forehead, the creases there smoothen. Little by little, he begins to calm down. Being clean, controlling the scents in the air, feeling the water, being warm... all of these things bring a sense of peace to his aching heart. He stands there for a few moments, bringing himself down from the metaphorical edge, and tries to remember what it’s like enjoying something besides dancing. Something as simple as water shouldn't be so powerful, but it is. He can feel himself calm down with every moment that passes. 

His wrist stops bleeding, but the wound doesn't heal like it normally does. He'll need to put a bandage on it, and he won't be able to hide it. But that's okay, because hiding things like that only make it worse. 

Once he’s given himself enough time, he freshens himself up using organic shampoo, with subtle scents of jasmine and bamboo that amplify his own natural smell and don’t irritate his nose. It feels good to lather the shampoo in his hair, methodically stimulating his scalp. His head has always been rather sensitive, and that hasn’t changed despite him turning. But with the right touch, he melts. It doesn’t work as well when he’s the one doing it to himself, but it does feel nice. Nice enough that he can scrounge up the courage to exit the shower and face the rest of his day. 

He clings to what little good things he does feel, and finds that he’s no longer in the heat of his emotions. With the distance and the controlled environment, he’s safer. He can remember that he’s so much more than his fears. It was a really bad moment, but it’s over now. 

Calmer, he exits the shower and wipes away the steam from the mirror. Normally he hates his reflection, but right now, he doesn’t let himself focus on the parts of him he hates. He only lets himself linger on the tattoos. Over his heart is a line art tattoo of the sun, moon, and stars. He touches it with the palm of his hand, and remembers why he got that one done. 

In one of Namjoon’s notebooks from college, Hoseok found a small sonnet poem that he wrote. No names were given or even specified, but it was blatantly written to be a love poem. He shouldn’t have read it, but he was far too curious because Namjoon hadn’t ever dated anyone. And it became clear in the poem comparing two different men to the sun and stars… that it was talking about Yoongi and Hoseok. He talked about being the moon.

_The moon, cursed to love both the sun and stars will continue to, no matter the scars._

Perhaps it's Hoseok now, who's to be the moon. Whatever light he had within himself is gone, he can no longer be the sun. This tattoo will forever stir longing in his heart, but it's time to let it rest. It's in the past now. Maybe things would have been different, if he'd worked up the nerve to talk about it after he discovered it, only a week before he was taken. He hadn't known how to handle it, though. Grappling with the idea that maybe, just maybe his feelings for Namjoon were reciprocated made him so... jittery. And the very same night he went missing is the same night where he thinks that it _might_ have been possible Yoongi returned his feelings, too. That night could have gone so much different than it did if he'd only just gone home with them, instead of going off on his own, all in an attempt to work up the nerve to confess. 

He swallows the lump forming in his throat and closes his eyes. He loves them with everything he has left. It may not be much, but it's still everything.

That’s why he has to let them go. He has to stop wondering about the what ifs, he has to stop wondering about how that night could have gone. It's time for him to move on, otherwise... he'll be trapped right here. And though he hates himself for what he's become, it's because of who he _was_ that he finds it so hard to accept himself now. He can't compare himself now to the ghost of his past self anymore. It's time to let Hoseok go, and all of the attachments with it. Maybe then... he'll find true happiness, even if it's just in mere flickering moments as life goes on. 

His confidence is shaky, but it'll have to be enough to get him through tonight and tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please drop a comment below! I am eager to see what everyone thinks about this reveal, and about what Hoseok did to Joonie. :D
> 
> P.S. Writing Hoseok calling Jimin hyung is a very weird and bizarre experience. Everybody's ages here are all messed up (except NamGi), and I had to create a separate document to keep track of their ages  
> P.P.S. I'll update the tags after a few days to tag the reveals that happened here! I feel like there are tons I need to add, so Imma go through the chapter a few times to pick them out before adding them.


	12. An Ambiguous Difference That is Different from Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great divide presents itself between Namjoon and Yoongi, creating a tension that wasn't there before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo!!! Happy belated Hobi Day!! :3 I feel a little bad that the chapter I'm posting doesn't have Hoseok in it much, but that's just how the cards are dealt, I suppose. 
> 
> Oof. This chapter is hella rough. For clarification, this chapter initially was approximately 3k words, and it was just a really mediocre placeholder because when I wrote it the first time, I almost hit writer's block. But! I powered through it and said "I'll get back to it when it comes time to post it." Not a mistake, but damn did it make for an interesting challenge. I mostly scrapped the entire original chapter and changed so MUCH. Now it's a lot longer, but I don't have the usual capacity to edit, so this one is going to be my roughest chapter in terms of spelling and grammar, please don't hold it against me!
> 
> Also one last thing. I wanted to say thank you for all of the love and attention this fic has received so far. I'm in awe that I've broken 1000 hits, 60 kudos, 10 bookmarks, and about 20 something readers' comments! :O I hope that everyone knows just how much I appreciate it. I love writing something to entertain all of you. :D
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! I look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts. :D

Chapter Eleven: An Ambiguous Difference That is Different from Before (Autumn Leaves, BTS)

Kim Namjoon  
Saturday, March 7th, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

Being forgetful and eternally clumsy feels like a curse sometimes to Namjoon. He doesn’t know who he pissed off in a previous life to get this kind of stupid affliction, but he regrets it immensely. Of course as soon as the elevator begins its descent, he realizes his wallet isn’t in his back pocket, likely somewhere in the apartment he just left. 

He really doesn’t want to go back in there for lots of reasons. His thoughts are still swimming and attempting to process the interactions with Jimin and Hoya and the observations that he made. For one, Hoya’s kind of… dickish. He wouldn’t stop touching his husband despite being around guests, reminding him of high school jocks with their cheerleader girlfriends, only thinking with their dicks and constantly clinging to their girls. Hoseok never did act like that around his previous partners, usually showing them physical affection only occasionally in public. Or maybe Namjoon is just seeing everything through a green filter of envy that he doesn’t want to admit to feeling.

That and it was like the entire time… Hoya was just humoring Jimin. He clearly didn’t want to be there and wouldn’t have been willing to answer their questions if Jimin hadn’t taken the initiative to invite them over. 

None of Hoya’s words felt like lies leaving his lips, but Namjoon couldn’t ever get over seeing his face. He looked so sad most of the conversation, and yeah, it was probably because he was thinking about his parents, but… even though he wasn’t being the most friendly or even Hoseok-like, Namjoon still found himself drawn in by those features on his face, longing to comfort him. 

And fuck if seeing him cry didn’t hurt like hell. Growing up with Hoseok meant that most days were sunny and warm, but on the days that weren’t, the absence of the sun was deeply unsettling and ominous like an eclipse or a moonless night. Seeing him cry always tugged on his heartstrings, but thankfully there wasn’t ever that much to cry about in their lives… nothing as big as someone’s parents dying or their best friend going missing. Seeing Hoya cry felt like seeing Hoseok cry. It carried the same dread, pulled on the same heartstrings in his chest. And it makes it so he can’t entirely write them off as two different people despite his better judgement.

Namjoon isn’t intuition based like his partner. He follows logic, reason, and facts. Hoya’s answers to the questions they _did_ get to ask should be enough for him to conclude Hoseok Jung and Hoya Park are two entirely different people. He saw Hoya’s baby photos for crying out loud. Hoya isn’t friendly like Hoseok. He’s a seesaw, going back and forth between frigid politeness and deep sorrow. Though the years that passed… could have made Hoseok that way. Without knowing what happened to him exactly, Namjoon finds it hard to fully close the door on that possibility. He hates how illogical it is, though. He doesn’t know what to do with this feeling he has, this strange divide that’s forming between his own mind and heart. 

He squeezes Yoongi’s hand tightly for a moment. “I’ve got to go back upstairs. My wallet isn’t in my pocket, it probably fell out up there. Do you want to come with me?” he asks, glancing at Yoongi’s deeply reserved expression. He thinks he knows the answer just based off of that alone, but he waits for him to respond regardless. 

“No… I, uh, would rather wait here,” Yoongi says, flashing him a sheepish expression. “Unless you want me to come with you?” A look shines in his eyes, and he squeezes his hand back, silently conveying his support. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be right back,” he says, leaning in to give him a small peck before passing off the DNA sample to him. “Hold onto this, okay?” 

The blonde nods, placing it in his pocket. “Can’t have you loosing this,” he teases, but his tone is off, like his heart isn’t behind it. He’s too grim. Nonetheless, Namjoon nods, and lets his hand go in order to press the correct floor number. The elevator doors slide closed, and the ride up feels a whole lot shorter than the ride down did, mostly because this time he’s just dreading seeing them again, and not lost in thought. 

When he approaches their front door, he stills, because it sounds like Jimin is really emotional. He doesn’t have a clue why Jimin of all people would be so upset. On one hand, eavesdropping would be really rude, but he does need his wallet back. He decides, he’ll wait until Jimin’s finished saying whatever it is he’s saying before interjecting. 

Try as he might, he can’t tune it out. His hearing is far too good, and all hope of tuning it out is lost when the words pique his interest.

“--but the reason you chose to do that was to _protect_ them. I honestly don’t think I could have done that had I been in your shoes. You see how I handle things with Tae and Kook. I haven't been able to keep them safe the way you just did,” Jimin says, muffled by the door. His voice is passionate though, not held back, which helps make his words clear to Namjoon.

One thought circles in his head… _who_ is Jimin talking about? What did Hoya do, and who is he protecting? Who is he referring to by _they?_ Keeping Taehyung and Jungkook safe? What are they in danger from? His brow furrows, and he wonders if he should offer his own services as a detective if they’re in danger of anything. Or perhaps investigate, because things here seem… unusual.

“You are so deserving of everything good. I love you. Becky loves you. Jin and the kids also love you. The pain will pass someday. Just hold on, okay?” The words sound so desperate, Namjoon determines that it’s Hoya who he’s speaking to, and it causes instant dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“Please just trust us that we love you no matter how badly you feel about yourself. We’ll love you while you learn to love yourself again, and we’ll continue to love you after that. You’re our family, Hoseok.”

_Hoseok._

Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok. The name ping-pongs around his thoughts for a moment as he tries to accept that he said _Hoseok_ , not Hoya. It doesn’t make sense, not at all, but holy shit, _that’s Hoseok inside that apartment._ It’s Hoseok’s DNA in Yoongi’s pocket somehow, and he’s in some kind of danger. Everything he just said to them in that living room earlier was a lie. When did Hoseok become such a talented liar? 

Oh god, he should tell Yoongi, but there’s no _way_ he can walk away from this door now that he knows, and this isn’t the kind of thing to say over text. He needs to get inside there. He needs to get to Hoseok. It can’t be like Yoongi’s dream. He’ll get to Hoseok first, and he can get Yoongi in a little bit once he’s cleared up what the hell is happening. 

His hand is shaking like a fallen leaf in the autumn wind as he knocks, but he puts a lot of force into it because he needs to make his presence known. He doesn’t notice the tears leaking from his eyes until the door opens, and he’s met with Jimin’s carefully voiced greeting, as if nothing is wrong, as if it isn’t Hoseok somewhere in the apartment behind him. 

“Where’s Hoseok?” he demands, his tone startling himself with how much emotion is behind it. “I heard you. _Where. is. he_ ?” His heart feels like it’s racing inside his chest, and his ribs feel like they’re squeezing it tight. Everything inside him feels like it’s ready to break. He glares at Jimin, the one thing standing in the way of his childhood best friend, who’s been missing for nearly _five fucking years._

“I think you’re mistaken. Do you mean Hoya?” Jimin asks, though his tone clearly gives him away and Namjoon won’t tolerate it for a single second. 

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, I heard you call him by his real name. Let me see him, or I’ll call the police,” he threatens before taking a step closer to the shorter man. He looks down at him with a look of steel, conveying that he won’t let Jimin get in his way. The blonde looks so skittish, as if he isn’t used to being challenged in this way. Namjoon usually doesn’t ever _try_ to be intimidating, but it comes so naturally when he feels someone he loves is in danger.

“L-Let him through,” Hoseok says, his voice weak and soft. It breaks his already broken heart hearing it, and he wants to run to him, wrap him up in his arms, and take him downstairs to Yoongi. He doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know who’s at fault for Hoseok’s pain, or why his voice still sounds foreign, or why he said nothing but lies earlier... but the answers can come later. Right now he needs to hold him, to see him with his own eyes. 

When Jimin steps aside, and Hoseok is revealed to him, he walks towards him with intent, just focused on getting to him. It looks like his entire body is shaking, and he’s breathing so quickly, Namjoon worries he might pass out. As he approaches him, though, he reflexively tenses up, almost like he’d expected to be hit… by _Namjoon_. He would _never_ hurt him like that. 

Shit, what happened to him? He takes care, tenderly wrapping his arms around his small— way too small— waist. It feels so fucking _right_ holding him again, even though his frame is so thin and delicate that Namjoon feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll. He never had the nerve to touch him much before he disappeared, so he can’t even remember the last time they hugged, just the two of them. He tries to silently show just how much he loves him with the way he tightens his arms, tries to tell him how much he loves and misses him with touch because that’s one language that doesn’t change. 

He can’t believe he found him after so long, but he’s so glad he did. It doesn’t feel real yet, like he’s in another one of Yoongi’s hyper realistic dreams. This is real, though, and this is Hoseok in his arms. He knows right then that they’ll be okay… because they’re together again. 

When Hoseok melts into his arms, he feels a deep sense of optimism that has been absent to him ever since May 19th, 2015. It feels like the world, the one spinning on the wrong axis, is finally recalibrating itself to spin the way it’s supposed to. Even though there’s still so many things to talk through and discuss, he knows in his heart and soul that it’ll be okay. They can get through it. Namjoon would do anything for him, and he knows Yoongi would, too. If Hoseok is the sun, they’ll be there to see him rise again. 

It’s hard to let distance come between them when Hoseok pulls away. The look on his face is startlingly apologetic, like he’s about to say something to hurt him. 

“Joonie, I can’t go home,” he says, meeting his eyes and in them, Namjoon can see a staggering amount of anguish and pain. It’s far too much to process when he’s scared that Hoseok is going to run away from him, and not to mention, his own confusion because he doesn’t look like he _wants_ to leave him. 

His thoughts are racing, though, and he’s not entirely logical. He glowers over at Jimin, and asks pointedly, “Is he hurting you?” The blonde may have a silver tongue; however he really doesn’t look like the type to do anyone harm, much less Hoseok with how much he cares for him. His childhood best friend’s behaviour had to come from _somewhere_ though, when he tensed up expecting to be hit. Hoseok’s scarily thin frame isn’t a good sign, either. 

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Hoseok answers, shaking his head, letting some of his long, caramel coloured locks fall in front of his face. “Jimin is the one who saved me. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.” He inhales deeply, looking physically pained for reasons Namjoon doesn’t understand, before Hoseok’s hand comes up to his cheek and the expression disappears. His brain absorbs the words, soaking them up like a dry sponge submerged in water. His words make simultaneously more sense and less sense, and he tries to look for the answer in Hoseok’s eyes only to see nothing but a tortured soul looking back. Namjoon doesn’t know how to heal him, but god, does he want to see the light shining back in those eyes again. 

“Hoseok, why can’t you come home?” he can’t help but ask, his voice breaking over the words. His thoughts are so messy.

“I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that I love you and Yoongi and everyone back home. I’ll always be with you, in your thoughts, in your dreams. I never said I love you enough before everything happened... so I’m saying it now,” the shorter man says, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. He has to stand on his toes to do it, and Namjoon thinks of how _many_ times he imagined kissing or being kissed by him, and none of them were anything like this. “I love you. I love you enough to let you go and keep you safe.” 

Panic settles in over him, and he holds onto him tighter. Those words sound like a goodbye. Hoseok would be an idiot to believe Namjoon would ever leave him now. He let him go once before, and he won’t ever do it again. “Hoseok— why? What are you protecting me from? I can protect myself,” he says, his words conveying the panic inside his chest. He doesn’t even have the mental capacity to realize what Hoseok just admitted to him, he’s far too focused on _keeping him here._ “Yoongi and I can keep you safe.” He’s grasping at anything he possibly can, trying to get Hoseok to see he isn’t alone. Yoongi and Hoseok have many similarities, and far more now that his childhood best friend has been through something awful. Reaching Yoongi is easier than this, though. Hoseok feels so much further away than Yoongi ever has, despite all of the walls he’s built around himself to protect his heart. 

When more caramel coloured strands fall in front of his face as he shakes his head, his heart sinks inside his chest. “No, Namjoon… I’m sorry. I’m _sorry._ ” He looks genuine as he apologizes, his voice cracking over the words as he says them. Namjoon can’t help but tear up at the words. To be so close and yet so far feels like a kind of torture he’s never known. 

“Hoseok, whatever it is, just tell me. We can face it together,” he pleads, not wanting to let him go. He can’t lose this… he can’t lose him again. "Trust me, please." His brown eyes meet Hoseok’s darker ones, feeling a strange warmth pooling in his stomach, something akin to drinking alcohol on an empty stomach. The deeper he stares into Hoseok’s eyes, the more unnatural they look, as if someone’s put a filter over them. Golden flecks come to life in the black as night orbs, like stars in the night sky. Except he feels like their light isn’t natural; it’s forced, and it commands all of his attention. 

All of his self awareness melts away, disappearing like fog on an early spring morning. The whole world feels like it’s going out of focus, and all he can see are Hoseok’s strange eyes. He feels the strangest disconnect from himself, and it makes him nervous. His mind feels warm and sleepy, like someone managed to sing his senses a lullaby, though he doesn’t want to go to sleep. Hoseok’s eyes feel unsettling, and so does the fatigue washing over his mind. When Hoseok speaks, he finds that he cannot hear anything else. He’s thoroughly enthralled by the seductive tone and enchanting eyes.

Though he hears him speak and he responds back to him, he does it with so little thought, it may as well not even been present. Everything Hoseok says goes in one ear and out of the other, eroding his memory like a river washing over rocks.

When he comes to, he’s very disoriented for a moment. Hoya is holding him upright… he must have stumbled and been caught by him? He shakes his head clear, and suddenly Hoya’s further away, and Jimin is handing him the wallet that Hoseok gave him. Oh, right. He came back for his wallet and overheard them wishing him luck finding Hoseok. 

“Oh! Thank you for finding this. Sorry I left it! I should get going now,” he says sheepishly, feeling embarrassed by how out of it he’s acting. “Have a good day, Hoya, Jimin.”

“Ah, wait,” Jimin says, grabbing his shoulder with a gentle touch, preventing him from leaving. “I know it must be hard for you without your friend, and we’ve probably caused a lot of trouble for you. To make it up to you... If you want, I can get you and Yoongi great seats at Hoya’s dance showcase tomorrow evening. I’ll send you the details over facebook, if that’s alright?” 

“Uh, sure. Can I see your phone?” Namjoon asks, accepting Jimin’s iPhone and typing his name into the search bar. 

In his peripheral, he sees Hoya turn around sharply on his heels. “I’ve got to go shower,” he says, but he sounds… upset. Namjoon isn’t sure why he’d be upset, unless it’s leftover from talking about his parents’ deaths. That must be it. 

“The concept for the showcase is darkness, and a quarter of the proceeds go to a local nonprofit that helps support people who are struggling with mental health and illnesses. I should warn you that the performances are quite dark, and some have trigger warnings on them. If you would still like to attend, I can send you the program link,” Jimin says, smiling softly at Namjoon. “The students themselves came up with most of the concepts for this showcase.”

“That’s incredible,” Namjoon says, mirroring his smile and reflecting it back at him. He hands the phone back to him after sending a friend request to himself and picks up his own phone to accept it. 

“You said they’re students?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“Ah, yes, they’re students of the University of Washington,” Jimin answers. “I graduated from there just last year. Hoya’s graduating this June,” he continues, a soft and fond smile on his lips. Its purity shows just how much he loves him, and he tries to swallow down the ridiculous, unfounded jealousy. Hoya isn't Hoseok. “This showcase means a great deal to him. I know he seems a bit cold at first, but I reckon he would fancy it if you came. Yoongi as well.”

It’s like Jimin sees everything, and picks up the tiniest details. He always seems to say the right things, and he reminds Namjoon a bit of Yoongi in that regard. The brunette isn’t entirely sure how to handle their similarities, or the few between Hoya and Hoseok, but he does know that seeing Hoya dance might be good for him. Hoya may not be Hoseok, but for just a fleeting moment, he can pretend it _is_ his childhood best friend on stage, living out one of his dreams.

The performance probably will be intense and sad with a concept like darkness, which doesn't fit with Hoseok in the slightest. Hoya’s been nothing but intense and mysterious, which… suits this concept well. “I take it Hoya’s will be pretty dark, huh?” he asks, furrowing his brow slightly subconsciously. Maybe it's just because he can't stop comparing Hoya to his childhood best friend, but he always looks so sad. He looks like Hoseok when Hoseok has bad days, except... with Hoya, that's his regular appearance. 

Jimin’s expression turns sympathetic. “Yeah. He’s a brilliant dancer. He was selected to be a soloist, and got to choose his own concept. Have you heard of the film _Black Swan?”_ the blonde asks, raising a brow. 

That movie is impossible to forget, there’s nothing quite like it. He remembers how Hoseok came back from the gym one night with the movie in hand, and shyly asked if he and Yoongi would watch it with him. He wanted to watch it because of his respect for ballet and dance, but was skittish about the body and psychological horror. The two of them were always Hoseok's safe place back then. Yoongi demanded that Hoseok sit in the middle, and they grabbed blankets and snacks to make it a proper movie night. He remembers how Hoseok would frown and wince at the scarier scenes, sometimes opting to duck into either his or Yoongi's shoulder. His heart aches at the memory, but he nods back at the other man. 

“Hoya used that for inspiration and had me choreograph his performance,” he says thoughtfully. “So that’s the kind of performance you can expect from the dancers.” He flashes a small smile. 

“Gotcha. I’ll get back in touch with you if Yoongi wants to attend. You don’t have to offer this, though,” Namjoon says quietly. “It’s not your fault that Hoya looks like our missing friend. We’ve already imposed on you a lot anyway.” 

Jimin shakes his head, waving him off. “It’s no bother, really. I meant what I said about Hoya, too. I think he would like you to be there. If you choose to attend, it is a somewhat formal affair. Tomorrow is opening night.” His eyes are kind, and his tone is warm as he speaks. Namjoon has no idea if it’d be something Yoongi would want to go and see, but he wants to go even if he doesn’t. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon replies genuinely. “I should get going now. Yoongi is probably wondering where I am.” 

“Good day to you both,” Jimin says with a dip of his head. “It was nice meeting you.” 

Normally pleasantries like that sound hollow, but coming from him, it truly seems like he means it. Instead of replying, though, the brunette just waves on his way out of the front door for the second time that day. 

As he makes his way towards the elevator, his heart is sinking. It’s hitting him suddenly how this whole situation is probably affecting Yoongi. Of the two of them, he was the one who was most certain Hoya was Hoseok. Coming to terms with the truth of Hoya being just a stranger won’t be easy. Namjoon really wishes that he’d chosen a different cafe to go to yesterday morning. Lately his roommate has been in such high spirits, and this… this will damage that. It hurts Namjoon’s heart to think of how much pain he must be in right now, and how much pain he’ll be in once the test results come back as a negative match for Hoseok. He does have to admit, the similarities between Hoya and him are staggering, but… 

Hoseok loved him. Hoya is nothing but a stranger who has a similar face. 

Namjoon... can get over that. His heart still aches and mourns the loss of hope, but for him, he knows he can recover. It’s Yoongi he’s worried about most, because he doesn’t want him to suffer from more emotional distress. 

Laying eyes on him when the elevator doors slide open, he’s filled with a desire to protect him, even though he knows he’s fully capable of protecting himself. He shakes off the silly thought and walks to his side, relinking their arms together. 

“Hey,” Yoongi greets quietly. “Did you get your wallet back?” he asks, raising a brow slightly as he turns to look at him, curling his whole body closer. 

The sensation floods him with butterflies… all of this is still so new between them. All of the couple-y things he used to tell himself were all platonic suddenly being very romantic make his heart race a bit more. Their newfound dynamic is fragile, like paper thin butterfly wings... Knowing Yoongi’s intentions are clearly loving makes him feel something warm and positive, like a light beaming from a lighthouse while he’s out at sea in a storm. He’s just nervous that light will shut off when he needs it most. Things aren’t okay, far from perfect, but the light from Yoongi is leading him in the right direction. As long as he has that, they’ll be okay.

“Hey,” he greets, and places a fond peck on his cheek. “I got it back. Jimin’s a really friendly guy. I’m not too sure about Hoya, though,” he comments with a shrug of his shoulders. 

A strange look crosses Yoongi’s handsome features, but he nods in response to him regardless. He doesn’t say anything, though… and Namjoon isn’t sure if this is one of those moments where he should nudge him to open up or leave him be. Though maybe… maybe he’ll be more open now that things between them have evolved? 

“What’s on your mind, hyung?” he asks, devoting his attention to him rather than requesting the uber using his phone. 

The blonde is just staring ahead, watching the rain pour with an absent look on his face. Maybe Namjoon was wrong… it feels like Yoongi’s guard is still up, at least to some extent. He thinks maybe he won’t get an answer when his expression changes slightly with anxiety crossing his features. “You don’t think Hoya is Hoseok, do you?” As he speaks, his eyes flicker over to meet his, and it’s Namjoon who looks away, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face when he tells him his answer. 

“No, hyung… I think I really wanted him to be Hoseok, but…” he trails off, taking a moment to look at the sky as if it’d give him guidance. “I believe Hoseok loves us, and wouldn’t push us away or lie to us like that. Besides, you have Hoya’s DNA right there in your pocket,” he murmurs quietly, dropping his gaze back down to his partner again. “If Hoya was Hoseok… that’d be proof of that. It wouldn’t make sense for him to give it to us, let us test it, and only confirm our theory. All those photos, too… none of them had any signs of photoshop. It might be suspicious that Hoya’s parents are dead, but… I can’t see him being Hoseok.” Now that he’s finally looking at him, he does see the disappointment, and it sends pangs to his heart. Disappointing him is something he’s never done before, not like this. He doesn’t want him to spiral down to a dark place— but he can’t lie to him. He respects Yoongi far too much to do that, and if anyone can come back from a bad episode, it’s him. He’s the most resilient person he knows. 

“I see,” he says, breaking their eye contact and dropping his eyes to a puddle forming on the ground. 

Rain has never sounded so loud in his ears. In a strange way, he’s thankful for it, because he thinks that silence would be worse. Namjoon’s trying to not feel hurt, except… he can almost imagine Yoongi putting the bricks back in place to restore the wall between them emotionally again. Just yesterday, it felt like that wall was coming down, and now a door is being shut in his face. It makes him feel alone and confused. He doesn’t want to be separated from him, and yet he is now. 

How does he fix this? He swallows nervously, hoping that maybe a change of topics will help. “In other news, uh, when I went up there, they invited us to Hoya’s dance showcase tomorrow, if we wanted to go to it. It’s got a pretty cool concept,” he says, this time busying himself with calling the uber through the app. He doesn’t think he can take standing there any longer than necessary. “Would you want to go?” 

Yoongi shrugs, remaining strangely non-verbal. Namjoon wishes he could find a way to reach him, but… he’s also feeling kind of angry. It’s not fair that he’s being shut out. Instead of snapping at him, though, he falls silent, too. A frown curls his lips downwards, watching the uber’s route on screen. The estimated wait time is only a few minutes, thankfully. His fingers twitch with the desire to pull out his headphones, to tune out the uncomfortable silence and moody rain between them, though he refrains from doing so, not wanting to give Yoongi an excuse to keep him at arm’s length. Not yet, at least. 

The minutes pass incredibly slowly with only the sound of drizzling rain to keep them company. He drums his fingers against the back of his phone absentmindedly, nearly dropping it. Usually silence between them is comfortable, so it hits doubly hard that it is full of tension and anxiety today. Though in theory Yoongi is not upset with him, and it’s just the whole Hoya thing that’s got him on edge, Namjoon feels like he is at fault somehow. He can’t figure Yoongi’s mood out this time, and he can feel his own mood sinking like the sun setting in the sky. 

The uber is only one minute away when Yoongi withdraws his arm from him. The distance between them feels cumbersome, and Namjoon’s lips curl into a frown as he looks back at his partner who won’t even look him in the eyes. “I think… I’m going to call in a few favours to get this sample tested. Don’t wait up for me, okay? I’ll be back later.” 

“Fine. I won’t,” he says, his tone rather harsh. 

Yoongi’s shoulders tense at the tone, but he doesn’t comment as he backs away from Namjoon, looking anywhere but at him. 

Thankfully before he can say anything, the driver arrives, and Namjoon gets in the back of the car without looking back. He doesn’t want to see Yoongi, doesn’t want to feel like he currently does. The driver attempts small talk, and he’s a pretty cool man full of all kinds of recommendations for restaurants, bars, and sights to see. He talks so fast Namjoon can’t quite keep up, clearly passionate about the city he lives in. Normally these are the things he would soak up like a sponge, except right now… maybe he’s too full of other thoughts, worries, and needs to let those go before absorbing anything else. He says just enough to keep the man talking, but doesn’t really give the conversation any of his real attention. He’s far too anxious right now to really engage with people, let alone a stranger.

As soon as he steps foot out of the uber, he feels kind of sick, just like he had in the dream from the other day. Whenever things aren’t right with Yoongi, Namjoon feels like complete shit. He never feels equipped to fix their problems, yet they’re closer than ever before, so he must have done something right in the past. What to do now, though? 

Making the journey up to their hotel room is lonely this time. Yoongi’s absence is impossible to miss. It hits him just how empty his life would be without him, and it doesn’t help his anxiety lessen. When he gets to their room, he immediately wants to be anywhere but there, but can’t think of anywhere else to go. 

There’s no logic supporting why he feels like he’s at fault right now. His anxiety is probably just bad, working him up and giving him reasons to be in a sour mood. He hasn’t done anything wrong, and even though he doesn’t believe Hoya is Hoseok, Yoongi does. He’s probably dealing with that fact and losing hope, and probably isn’t mad at him. 

Though normally he can talk himself out of the nerves by using logical thinking, he can’t this time. He lets out a heavy sigh, looking around the empty hotel room. If he could, he would opt to sleep away the thoughts. But Namjoon isn’t like Yoongi, at least when it comes to something like that. He’d only end up tossing around fitfully, not resting at all. Reading wouldn’t be a viable option for him at the moment, either. He’s too wound up to stay still. 

If he wants to work off his mood, a gym is the best place, and thankfully the hotel they’re staying in has a fitness center he could use. He digs out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, changing into them on autopilot. He tries to focus on what exercises he’ll do rather than the anxiety pooling in the pit of his stomach. It kind of works, and once he’s surrounded by the actual machines, not just his imagination, it works a lot better. He starts off on the treadmill, setting it to a probably too fast pace, considering he didn’t warm up, but keeps at it regardless. 

He gets so focused on the task at hand that he doesn’t notice he isn’t listening to music like he typically does while working out. Time passes strangely fast. It’s like when he blinks, he’s already done over ten miles, all without warm up and water. That explains why he’s so fatigued. Panting, he stops the treadmill, eyes lingering on the hour and fifteen minute timestamp on the screen. His muscles feel tight, and he _knows_ he’s going to regret this in the morning, but it works to keep the bad thoughts at bay. 

He walks over to the water fountain, taking a long, much needed drink. The cold water helps his internal body temperature cool off, and once he’s had his fill, he moves to the side of the room vacant of any machines to stretch, wincing at the tenseness of his legs. He really needs to stay hydrated and remember to warm up if he intends to work out that intensely. Then again, this happened sort of on accident. 

After some stretching, he decides to move onto an arm work out, moving on to the cable machine. He prefers lifting free weights or using a bench press, but the hotel offers neither of those, and he doesn’t have a spotter anyway. He makes do, adjusting the weights and cables in the way that suits his needs most. Again, he launches right into his workout, focusing on the push and pulls of his muscles, blocking out any negative thoughts. It’s just him and the machines. 

More time passes, and now the ache in his arms is enough for him to call it a day. He has no idea how long he spent working at the cables, so he goes to check the time on his phone from his pocket… except it’s not there. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, bringing a hand to his forehead. Sometimes it feels like he can’t do anything right. He can’t even keep track of his phone. 

He bites the inner part of his cheek before standing up, ignoring the mild dizziness the movement causes. His wallet with the room key isn’t in his pocket, either, so he has to hope Yoongi’s back in the room or else he’ll have to brace himself for the embarrassment of admitting what happened to the front desk. He takes his time walking over to the elevator, leaning against the wall beside him. Working out like that did him some good, but he should have been more careful. He’s definitely feeling the overexertion in his body, and the dizziness in his head means he hasn’t had enough water to drink. 

When he reaches the door, he knocks quietly, not really wanting to face Yoongi but not having a choice at all… not if he wants to go back into the room and shower… and eat. It hits him that he’s barely eaten today and that’s not good at all. 

The door swings open in seconds, and he’s met with a relieved but pissed Yoongi. He doesn’t step aside or open the door wider to let him in. The disappointment is etched into every line, every slope of his expression, making Namjoon’s anxiety come rushing back despite his fatigue. At first, he doesn’t think he’s going to say anything. A minute passes of the blonde’s intense gaze, looking him over with a sharp eye, before he finally speaks. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been gone?” he asks, his tone way softer than his image lets on. 

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to his feet. He’s not okay, and he gets why Yoongi’s mad at him, but he really just needs to go inside. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough from lack of use. “I didn’t know I forgot my phone or wallet until I was on my way back up.” 

“I was worried,” Yoongi murmurs quietly. His hand moves from the door to grab his, and the connection helps him feel better, even though it’s such a small touch. “Since… you got hurt in the dream, and I didn’t know where you were…”

“I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean to worry you,” Namjoon replies, giving his hand a squeeze. He feels bad that he caused him stress, especially so soon after that admission from him. He’s not sure that he can ease it that easily, but he’ll try. “I just wanted to blow off some steam at the gym downstairs. How long was I out?” 

“You’ve been gone at least three hours… maybe four if you went straight to the gym after getting back,” the blonde says softly, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?” The concern in his voice is touching, especially since he needs to feel how much the other cares for him right now. Yoongi’s other hand comes up to the dip between his shoulder blades, and Namjoon melts into the touch, moaning under his breath at the contact to his sore muscles. 

“Achy,” he answers back, since it’s easier to start off with the physical stress rather than the emotional. “I forgot to bring a water bottle and I didn’t eat before going down there.”

“Don’t overwork yourself next time,” Yoongi chides softly, guiding him over to the bed. His fingers press harder against the aching muscles, and it’s obvious that he knows how tense Namjoon is, and how good the touch feels. “Lay down on your stomach and let me take care of you, okay?” 

Namjoon just nods, soaking up the fact that even if things aren’t quite right between them, at least Yoongi does still care, and wants to show that he does. It’s just what he needs right now, both physically and emotionally. When he lays down, the blonde’s hands quickly remove his shoes and socks. His touch starts off gentle, but grows firmer as he starts with his feet. 

It reminds him of when they were younger, still in college. Hoseok always was the first one to offer a massage to either of them when they needed it, but Namjoon was too awkward to accept it from him. He never wanted him to see the boner he would likely get from that much skin to skin contact. Yoongi would insist from time to time, pulling the “I’m your hyung” card, likely sensing even back then that Namjoon was prone to overexertion. He takes just as much care with him now as he did in their college days, and he finds himself sinking into the mattress, negative thoughts melting away with the physical tension. 

He loses himself in the methodical press of Yoongi’s fingers and palms, relaxing into a much better state as he works his way up his body. Normally touches like this would give him a raging boner, but he’s too spent and his cock only stays half-mast, pressed into the sheets. He’s half asleep by the time Yoongi is done with his shoulders and neck, so much more calm and his thoughts linger only on warm memories of other times Yoongi’s shown how much he cares about them. 

He’s in a dreamy, floaty state of mind, hardly aware of anything until he smells food. Yoongi’s lips press a kiss to his forehead, and he quietly says, “Wake up, Joonie. I reheated the pork bowls.”

With a grunt, Namjoon sits up and accepts the steaming bowl of food with a murmur of thanks. He’s sleepy as he begins eating the delicious food, but with every bite, he grows more alert and coherent. Yoongi hands him a glass of water, too, and that helps even more. 

“It’s a shame we didn’t eat these when they were fresh, because this is really fucking good and it’s microwaved,” the blonde comments, breaking the silence with a small smile on his face. 

Namjoon mirrors it back, laughing softly before responding. “Yeah, this is delicious. I had no idea how starved I was, shit,” he says, shaking his head. “I know I said it earlier, but I am sorry I worried you. I just feel… off, since leaving Hoya and Jimin’s apartment.” His words are genuine, and he looks over to meet his partner’s soft gaze. 

“I understand, I’m feeling off about all of it, too,” he says before taking another bite of food. He doesn’t look like he’s going to offer more information or elaborate, but this time, it’s Namjoon’s turn to take care of him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, extending a hand over to him, giving his a gentle squeeze. Their eyes meet and Yoongi’s mask comes crumbling apart. His brows furrow and he looks away from his eyes to look down, but he squeezes Namjoon’s hand back. 

“Can you just... hold me for a second?” he asks, his gaze slightly skittish. 

“Of course,” he answers, letting his hand go in favour of wrapping his arms around him. He scoops him up into his lap, adjusting his legs to make a comfortable amount of room for him to occupy. Though he’s hungry, he would feel better talking this out before focusing on eating. Holding Yoongi makes him feel a lot more optimistic about the heavy conversation they’re likely about to have. 

“I know what all of the evidence says,” he starts off, his voice barely a whisper. “I just… can’t accept it. I know it doesn’t make any sense logically and I know logic is your thing, but I just _know_ that Hoseok is pretending to be Hoya. I’ve always followed my instincts when it came to investigations before, and those were always supported by the facts eventually. This? This I know is going against them, but it’s never felt so right.” Namjoon can hear the quiver in his voice, hear all the signs of tears forming though he can’t see his face very well from this angle. “I want to know what happened to him, Namjoon-ah. I want to tell him it’s okay to come home. I feel like I’m losing him a second time.” He does cry, then, and the sob he lets out causes his heart to ache. 

He wishes he could take away the pain Yoongi’s facing, but he can’t. Only Hoseok would be able to do so, but he’s not here… so Namjoon holds him tight, pressing kisses wherever he sees fit. His hair tastes like rain, and he still smells like it, too. “I think Hoseok loves us both so much,” he murmurs softly. He brings one hand to rub the tense muscles on Yoongi’s back. “I don’t doubt that. If he is alive, we’ll find a way to bring him back to us… and if Hoya is Hoseok, we’ll find something to prove it. I promise we won’t stop investigating him until we’ve turned over every possibility.” He knows that Hoya isn't Hoseok, but that won’t stop him from supporting Yoongi. He brings his free hand back down to wrap around his torso, holding him close yet again, this time to deliver a loving kiss to his tear stained cheek. 

“I’m not so sure that Hoseok loves us,” he says gruffly, and it breaks Namjoon’s heart a little at hearing the admission. “I’m not so sure he’ll let us find him… I just don’t know why he’d rather stay away than let us in.” His voice grows quieter with every word. "But it makes more sense if I'm not someone he wants in his life."

The brunette swallows the lump forming in his throat, at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t doubt Hoseok loves them, not in the slightest… but if Yoongi is certain that Hoseok is Hoya, then he absolutely understands where the doubt is coming from. “Maybe… he has his reasons? If he is Hoya, I mean. Just because we don’t understand them doesn’t mean you should lose faith.” The words feel strange on his tongue, though… leaving an oddly warm sensation in their wake. That strange impression of feeling like you’ve forgotten something important comes rushing over him, though he has no idea why. Normally he can recall moments and conversations as if they happened only seconds ago. His brain is like a library of memories, neatly organized and structured so it's easy to find what he's looking for. Except... there's a hole in his memory that bugs him. Everything after he got back up to Hoya and Jimin's apartment is like a weird blur full of vague impressions. It doesn't have the clarity most of his other memories have, not until after he found his wallet. But that doesn't necessarily mean anything, and it won't help him console Yoongi, who needs his attention right now. 

“I just… I don’t know,” he mumbles, kicking his shoes off and twisting around in Namjoon’s hold, his legs laying over his lap and his back turned to the side. “I don’t doubt that he loves you at all, but me? I was just his roommate for a few years, and you were there for almost all of them. I… may not mean much to him,” he says, and god, he’s convinced himself so much, and it hurts Namjoon to see that. He cups his cheek with one hand, meeting his anguished eyes with his own.

“ _No,_ ” he says firmly, shaking his head. “Hoseok definitely loves you. Do you remember the conversation we had on his birthday? I meant every word. Even if his love for us isn’t romantic, it’s definitely there. Hyung, please don’t think that pushing you away is the same as not loving you.” It feels wrong talking about Hoya as if he’s Hoseok, because he knows that he isn't. But the words aren’t meant to decide whether that’s true or not, they’re designed to comfort Yoongi. 

He can see the difference the words make in those eyes, but he closes them shortly after. “I don’t know,” he says sadly, slumping against Namjoon as if all of his energy left at once. 

The brunette purses his lips as he debates whether or not to push. “Yoongi-hyung, can I be painfully honest for a moment?” he asks, deciding to put the ball into his court. 

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, not opening his eyes at all… though Namjoon can feel the anxiety rolling off of him like waves. 

He takes a deep breath, a nervous one at that. His words have the potential to piss him off, which he doesn’t want to do, but… they could also help give him some perspective, and as a secondary factor... they could help Namjoon feel better about the day, too. “You push me away a lot, too. You may not even be aware of how much armor you wear… but I never for a single second doubt that you love me, too. Sometimes I can tell you’re not ready to let me in. Maybe… maybe Hoya is similar. If he is Hoseok, then he would only push us away like that for good reason. Nobody’s life is as simple as it looks, and we’ve only just begun investigating Hoya. And once we do find Hoseok, if he’s still alive… then maybe we’ll have to be patient with him.” He sucks in another nervous breath, waiting for Yoongi’s response. 

His eyes peel open and meet his yet again, and for a moment he just stares at him. Namjoon can see as it sinks in, and he nods just slightly. “I… I’m sorry, that I push you away sometimes, Joon. I’m so used to being alone, and that being the safest place. I trust you. I want to be open to you, I just struggle sometimes.” He leans in closer and brings their lips together for just a moment. His lips are salty with tears, and Namjoon wonders when the days full of tears will pass. Instead of dwelling on that, though, he focuses on the admission he just received from Yoongi. When their lips part, he continues, “You have a good point about Hoseok. I feel a little better, thinking of it like that. Thank you. ” 

Namjoon nods back and holds him tight again. It felt really good to get that admission off his chest. It makes him feel so much better about the day so far, especially about the most awkward car ride he’s ever experienced. He feels like both him and Yoongi were able to say things that needed to be said. “Always, hyung. And I forgive you, too, not that you need that. Thank you for choosing to open up to me, no matter what pace you take it at.” 

“Always, Joon,” he echoes, bringing their lips together. His hand makes its way to rest on his neck, pulling him as close as possible in this angle. Namjoon reciprocates the kiss, tilting his head to the side before sliding his tongue past Yoongi’s soft lips. The blonde sucks on his tongue, inviting him in further. He accepts the invitation before turning the tables on him, coaxing him to give him the same treatment. The dynamic between them is like a seesaw going back and forth, each time going higher and higher. He’s growing addicted to it and the sweetness of Yoongi's lips. Yoongi’s touch is slightly tighter, as if he needs a bit of extra reassurance right now, and that is absolutely okay with Namjoon. He lets him hold onto him as he needs, and adapts to the embrace naturally. He loves kissing him and being kissed by him. Both sensations are comforting and give him strength. He hopes it’s the same for Yoongi, too. 

When their lips part, Namjoon presses a kiss to the side of his head. “We should finish eating our food before it gets cold, baby,” he murmurs, smiling softly at the ways Yoongi leans back into him just a little more. 

“Yeah,” he answers, picking his bowl up from beside him. “But I’m not moving.” The words and the tone are both cheeky, and the lighter dynamic is a breath of fresh air to him. 

“I like having you in my lap, right where you belong,” he teases, thumbing over his hip bone with a playful touch. He takes pleasure in the way Yoongi squirms. 

“Yah, don’t start something you can’t stop,” the blonde says, but there’s no bite to his words. 

“I won’t, I won’t,” Namjoon says with a chuckle. “Feed me, hyung?” he asks. 

The blonde laughs and turns his head to look at him, rolling his eyes with an affectionate smile on his lips. “You’re lucky I love you, because this is cheesy as fuck,” he says, a light blush on his cheeks as he brings a bite of food to Namjoon’s lips. 

He takes the bite, the corners of his lips curling upwards and revealing his dimples. After he’s done eating, he answers, “You love cheesy.” 

Yoongi turns away from him, a flustered look on his face, but he nods his head in response. The two of them continue to eat in relative silence, just enjoying the comfort of being on the same page again and the quiet of their room. Once they’re done with their food, Yoongi gets up and tosses the empty containers into the bin. When he comes back to the bed, he opts this time to face Namjoon. “So… I think I want to go to the showcase. What do I need to know about it?"

Namjoon is glad he wants to go. It’d be perfect for them— dance is something that they both enjoy watching, and well, it serves a double purpose. “First of all, Hoya’s a dance student at The University of Washington, so it’s technically a school showcase. Aside from that, I know it’s a formal-ish event and supposedly the concept is ‘Darkness.’ There’s a warning for triggering topics on the event website, too.” 

The brunette grabs his phone from the bed, bringing up the link to the UW dance [site](https://andeverythingchangedshowcase.mystrikingly.com/) and hands it over to Yoongi. He takes a generous swig of water while the blonde reads everything on the site. It only takes him a few moments to read it, his expression perking up in interest as he scrolls through the page, taking it all in. 

As he finishes off his glass of water, he tries to contain his excitement. He can’t quite explain it… he’s never even watched an actual musical or a play live. He’s been to concerts, and this is obviously far different from that, except that is the exact brand of excitement he’s feeling about the showcase. It holds a certain kind of promise that he can’t explain. It feels like it’s been a long time since he’s felt excited in this way, though it really hasn’t. The emotional roller coaster just has made time feel like it’s passing at a strange rate. 

“It definitely looks fancy. I don’t think I brought anything to wear to this though,” he says thoughtfully, pursing his lips as he thinks over what he packed. 

“We could go shopping,” he suggests happily, taking his hand after his phone is handed back to him. 

For just a second, Yoongi’s genuine gummy smile makes an appearance, and he pinches Namjoon’s cheek with his free hand. “You’re so cute like this,” he comments in a dopey voice. “You’re really excited, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, I am. Hoya’s dancing is really good from the videos I watched on his instagram. Though I’m kind of surprised he’s dancing in a modern-contemporary showcase, since most of his online videos are street dancing,” he rambles slightly, getting animated as he talks. 

Maybe he’s getting so swept up in this because… well, dancing was something Hoseok was so passionate about. Though he settled on becoming an accounting major to appease his parents and grew to be good at that like he did with everything he set his mind to, he was never happy with it. He remembers when Hoseok performed for the first time on their elementary school dance team, how excited he was and how bubbly dance made him. Namjoon also remembers the horrible day his parents told him he wasn’t ever going to dance again, only one day after they’d graduated middle school.

Hoseok was never the rebellious one between them, but that changed when dance was taken away. Before that day, Hoseok was Namjoon's morale compass, keeping him from getting into trouble. The most they would usually do is sneak out at night and sit in one another's backyard, stargazing. But high school Hoseok gave Namjoon a run for his money. 

He got involved with the party crowd and that led to a lot of conflict with his parents. Namjoon kind of just went along for the ride, wanting to both keep him safe and also learn to let go and stop being so tense all the time. It worked on both accounts. Hoseok was wild for a teenager, but not dumb. He didn’t do drugs, never really even drank too much. It was more like he liked to be in the heat of things, right at the pulse of the chaos and wildness without letting it consume him entirely. He still got great grades, and that's really the only thing that mattered to his parents (particularly his father) at the time.

Seeing Hoya’s showcase is already making him wonder what it could have been like if Hoseok had the opportunity to pursue that passion. Hoya isn't childhood best friend, but it’s uncanny how similar they look. For just a little bit, Namjoon can get lost in the fantasy, and… he kind of needs it. Words cannot express how much he misses him, so even though it’s kind of pathetic how excited he is to be seeing a dance showcase for a stranger, he’s going to roll with it. He needs _something_ to fill the void Hoseok left in his heart. 

“Why are you so fucking cute?” Yoongi asks, shaking his head with a laugh. “It should be illegal.” 

His words warm his cheeks with blush, and he scrunches his face at the compliment. “Shut up. I’m just excited.” The words are said without a bite, though. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to praises and compliments coming from Yoongi. 

“I can tell,” the blonde says in a teasing tone, a light Namjoon loves seeing the light in his eyes. “Let’s get going then. I need at least a button down shirt if we’re going to go to this fancy showcase.” 

“Sure, I’m down,” he says contentedly and stands from the bed. 

The rest of the evening is so much better than the earlier half of their day. Yoongi fills him in about dropping the sample off at a lab nearby as they make their way to the closest mall. Shopping goes well, too, and they both walk away with more than they intended. They make plans for their day tomorrow, and when they’re back in their hotel room, they’re both fast asleep in mere minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and look forward to the next update! (The next chapter is a personal favourite of mine, so I hope you'll enjoy it, too!!)
> 
> Note: I'm not sure if anyone caught that there is a link to the "website" for the showcase in the actual text! If you would like to check it out, I threw something together for your entertainment! You can find it [ here. ](https://andeverythingchangedshowcase.mystrikingly.com/)
> 
> P.S. It's so weird that this fic is catching up to the current dates. I should try to line up Yoongi's birthday in the fic with his birthday in real life! Haha.


	13. The Music Box of Tragedy Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ominous morning devoid of dreams leaves Yoongi wondering what will unfold at Hoya's dance showcase. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have seen this coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo my lovelies! I'm here posting this early 'cause I was so MOVED by Blue Side dropping, and I have no ways to show it except for dropping a haunting chapter for you!! Are you ready for a hefty chapter? I hope so, because this one isn't for the faint of heart! 
> 
> I **HIGHLY** recommend listening to the [playlist](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYZ5P--mfvMhmxdVoevBEg3HOphH8Gl2P) I made while you read this chapter. It's roughly 60 minutes, but it has every single song I used as inspiration for the dance showcase, so if you want to get an immersive experience while reading, I highly recommend it. If you love classical music or orchestral versions of BTS, it's going to be a treat for you. Please enjoy!!

Chapter Twelve: The Music Box of Tragedy Echoes (Boy Meets Evil, J-HOPE)

Min Yoongi  
Sunday, March 8th, 2020  
Seattle, WA

* * *

Waking up the next morning is strangely easy for Yoongi, accredited to the fact that he eerily slept soundly, not a single dream to disturb him. He thinks it’s because… he doesn’t want to face the day for more reasons than one. Something hasn’t sat well with him since yesterday… something about Namjoon. Ever since he came back down after retrieving his wallet from Jimin’s apartment, there’s something about him that puts Yoongi on edge, like he needs to be on guard. He can’t quite place it, though, and with a dreamless night… he doesn’t know what the day will bring. He’s also weirdly nervous about the trigger warning attached to his solo performance tonight. 

_Black Swan_ being the inspiration means… it’ll be intense. The only time that Yoongi ever watched the movie was once with Hoseok and Namjoon in a movie night. The suggestion came from Hoseok, but he didn't seem to enjoy the movie much, far too caught up on the body horror and psychological aspects of the movie to enjoy the dance aspect of it. He was really cute that night, ducking between him and Namjoon's shoulders throughout the movie. Hoseok never had to try hard to be cute, but when he did, it always made it hard to breathe and his face was always lit in a dopey smile. God, how Yoongi misses him being scared at some of the smallest things— it was so pure and genuine. Hoseok used to be just too good for this world. 

But that’s just the catch, isn’t it? He’s Hoya now, not Hoseok. Even if they are the same person, they’re two sides of the same coin; light and dark. Yoongi doesn’t know how to reconcile the two. He doesn’t know how to reach him in the dark when he can’t see and doesn’t have solid ground. What do you do when the light is gone in someone you love? Once upon a time, it was Hoseok who lit the way out of the darkness for him. He doesn’t know how to be the light he needs. 

He just longs to bring him back, to hold him and tell him it’ll be okay. 

No matter how Hoseok feels for him, Yoongi loves him as much as he did when he first realized his feelings as an overwhelmed foreign student sharing a room with him. There’s something that he hasn’t been able to shake off when it comes to Hoseok. He may have fallen hard and fast, but it’s nothing like with past lovers or boyfriends for him. The man that he fell in love with years ago _took_ so much of him with him when he disappeared, and he can't get those parts of himself back. He never truly questioned it before, but now, faced with the idea that maybe Hoseok is content where he is now, he feels like maybe their connection was one sided, despite Namjoon’s protests. 

Funny that Namjoon was so insistent on it, too. It feels like he might have been a little pushy, but maybe he’s just overthinking it. Yoongi was really upset yesterday, so maybe he’s not thinking clearly, and everything seems fine to him when they’re not talking about the Hoya/Hoseok thing. 

When they do, Yoongi gets a weird feeling over his chest, especially if he looks into Namjoon’s eyes. It’s the strangest thing, because they look genuine, but the words don’t feel like they’re coming from him. Before he went upstairs to retrieve his wallet, it felt like he was still somewhat open to the possibility of Hoya being Hoseok, but when he came down, the door to that possibility was firmly closed. He keeps meaning to ask what they all talked about, but he never manages to find the words. Besides, it probably was the showcase, considering Namjoon has all of the information on it. 

Yoongi thinks back to yesterday, walking into their fancy apartment. That entire building felt strange, almost as if he walked into a dream when he followed them up to their apartment. He remembers the strangest of feelings coming from their next door neighbor whose door had a fascinating decoration hanging from it. It’s like he could feel energy radiating off of both homes, neither of them bad, exactly… just foreign. 

A few things in particular kept standing out to him, like the photo album Jimin showed them. It felt like every single page was trying to tell him something. His fingertips felt tingly as he ran them over the worn plastic page protectors. Nothing struck him as odd besides the feeling, though. The pictures showed the two of them through various stages of life, similar yet far different from the scrapbook Hoseok’s mom brings out every Christmas Eve. It’s just… those pictures still didn’t change his mind. He doesn’t know how Jimin and Hoseok did it, but he’s still certain that he's Hoseok without a doubt. They did a fantastic job of convincing Namjoon, though. 

Another thing that kept giving him weird vibes was Hoseok’s tea. Whenever he looked directly at it, it was an ordinary cup of black tea. Whenever he saw it from the corners of his eye, though, he kept thinking he could still see steam rising from the delicate looking mug. 

Hoseok's behaviour through their meeting was hard to watch. There's a deep sorrow radiating from him, a darkness that never existed before he went missing. It didn't go unnoticed by him that Hoseok kept following Jimin's lead, who seems to always say the right thing. It bugs him in ways that he can't articulate, because despite how seemingly perfect he is, there isn't anything unsettling about him. It's more like when someone boasts about themselves, embellishing the truth out of deep personal motivation that makes sense after doing some digging. He projects a certain image, knowing people will fall for it, when he's hiding what's within. Normally that kind of action would piss him off, but he's finding it increasingly difficult to be any level of peeved with Jimin. It's an odd circumstance, and he doesn't have the mental capacity to try to figure him out when Hoseok is absorbing every ounce of his attention. 

Yoongi sort of wishes he’d been the one to take a sample of his blood— he’d been too overwhelmed yesterday to do that, but… he can’t shake the feeling of what it would have been like to touch him. The handshake from when they first met was barely there, as if he had been subconsciously nervous to touch him, and the only impression he received from that was _melancholy_. 

Touch has always been his most important sense. It can easily calm him or easily work him up, depending on the circumstances. But it also helps him connect to people better, to understand them better. It was while he was touching Hoseok the night of May 19th, 2015, that he received a warning of what would happen later that night. The blood, the car crash. Maybe with a less fleeting touch, he could have understood Hoseok better yesterday. But he didn’t do that, and now the opportunity has passed. Well, actually… it is possible that tonight at the showcase, he could find a way to touch him, but likely not for as long as it would take to get anything more than an impression. 

Shaking his head free of the thoughts circling in his mind, he rolls over to his other side and reaches somewhat blindly for his phone. It’s nearly 6am. Fuck his brain for waking him so goddamn early. 

He doesn’t think Namjoon is awake yet, and doesn’t particularly want to wake him up. Carefully, he extracts himself from the bedding and sheets. Namjoon tends to sleep heavily, so Yoongi doesn’t worry about being extra quiet as he dresses himself in warm enough clothing to venture out onto the deck. He grabs his wallet and keys from the nightstand and doesn’t bother to leave a note since he doesn’t think he’ll be long. 

This time, he opts to walk the flight upwards rather than take the elevator. Once he pushes the door open, the chilly morning air welcomes him instantly. The sun has just begun rising, painting the sky with its pale light. No clouds can be spotted in the distance. Today feels eerie, though, and it has nothing to do with the chill and everything to do with his own mood. A dreamless night used to be peaceful to him, except right now, it bothers him. He knows today is going to be an intense day emotionally again, and it almost feels like he’s going into it naked. The dreams always set his tone for the day, usually preparing him for what is to come. He doesn’t know when he began to see them that way, just that it feels wrong when he knows today is going to be likely full of emotional strain. 

What could the absence of dreams mean? Does it mean today won’t be as hard as he thinks? He supposes it’s possible, just very unlikely. He thinks what’s more likely is that not even his subconscious can prepare him for today. 

He sits down on the same bench he shared with Namjoon a couple of nights ago, watching the sun rise in the sky. He remembers his roommate comparing Hoseok to the sun, and wonders if Yoongi will get to watch him rise again, or if maybe the clouds will be too thick today. 

His breath steams the crisp morning air, and he sits in tranquility, like the still calmness before a storm. The moment won’t last long, he knows, so he’ll try to take the chance to relax before bracing himself for the worst. After a while, he finds himself slipping into an almost meditative state with his eyes closed. With every breath and exhale, he feels more centered and mentally fortified. He can faintly smell the scent of the greenery around him, and he can smell the aftermath of rain in the air. There’s a slight and salty breeze coming from the direction of the water. Most of the city is awakening, coming to life in sync with the rising sun. 

He’s not sure how long he spends sitting like that, but it doesn’t feel neither long nor short. After a while, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and dials the number of the lab. His coworker, Kara, from Portland has a lab connection here that he cashed in a favour for, and they said they should have test results sometime today. Granted it’s super early, so maybe not yet, but it doesn’t hurt to try. 

He dials the number, waiting patiently for someone to answer. 

“Hello, this is Danika speaking,” the lab technician answers. 

“Hello, this is Yoongi. We spoke yesterday? I'm sorry for calling so early, but I was wondering if the results came in from the blood sample I dropped off,” he says, getting straight to the point. He suspects that this piece of ‘evidence’ will also be inconclusive, but nonetheless, he’s curious, and it'll help him prepare for the rest of the day. 

“Oh! You're in luck, yes, yes it did come in. Calling you was on the top of my list of to-dos today. So the DNA sample you had came back negative to anything in the police database. The cross comparison data you gave me from the cold case in Portland wasn’t a match, either,” she answers in a far too bubbly of a tone that is entirely not necessary. Yoongi isn’t surprised in the slightest, yet having this information pushes him deeper into another area he can’t explain. And it also drives him further from Namjoon, who will immediately feel confirmed that Hoya and Hoseok are two different people. Their conversation from yesterday brought him so much hope, except... Namjoon promised they'd turn over every possibility. Faking DNA is no easy feat. It might be the conclusion that Namjoon was looking for. 

“Alright, thanks for getting the results so quickly. I had a feeling it’d go this way,” he answers back as politely as possible given the deeply rooted disappointment settling over his heart.

“I’m sorry it’s not better news. Good luck with the investigation, though! If you ever need someone to run tests on anything else, I’m your girl! In Seattle, at least. A friend of Kara’s is a friend of mine,” she says, sincere but cheerful. He gets the feeling that she could talk a mile a minute, too. It makes sense that she’d be friends with Kara, the both of them are way too alike. 

“Thanks! Have a good day,” he says back, finding that he’s not entirely immune to her infectious optimism, despite how heartbroken he is.

“You, too. Bye now!” she says before ending the call. 

He tucks his phone back into his side pocket, a sigh leaving his lips and fogging the air around him. Coming to terms with the circumstance isn’t easy— Yoongi doesn’t have one single, logical reason to still believe that Hoya is Hoseok. There is no proof whatsoever of that hypothesis being true. An overwhelming amount of evidence goes against Hoseok being Hoya… and Namjoon's already given him so much support despite not agreeing with him. This is the final nail in the coffin. DNA can't be faked as easily as anything else. Namjoon will follow the facts. Yoongi… can’t. He _knows_ it’s Hoseok, it has to be. All of his weird dreams, all of the strange feelings, the vibes coming off of him, the abnormal sensation of things being too perfect yet strangely amiss… they have to mean something. 

There’s also the fact that he can’t let it go. With so much planning and detail, Hoseok must be a part of something either important or something he doesn’t understand yet. None of his past theories made much sense, but maybe… he’s in witness protection? 

That could explain a _lot_ of things. All of the perfect legal documentation, the detailed and thorough background, the accent change, the altered appearance, and most importantly, the negative DNA results.

That still wouldn’t explain why Yoongi’s instincts are so strongly screaming at him that it’s Hoseok. That doesn’t explain the weird phenomena he’s experienced his whole life. If it simply boiled down to witness protection, Yoongi wouldn't be questioning it so much, right? Why does he feel like it's all a giant lie? He doesn't understand how he could so strongly sense that without a reason. Nothing supports this. Either he's crazy and trying to fit Hoya into the mold of Hoseok, or he's the only one who can see the truth. Many detectives before him have done the former, and he's always prided himself on _not_ doing that and finding the absolute truth. Once upon a time, it would have been so easy to believe he was the problem, that he's crazy. But it just doesn't cut it. He's not buying it. _Something is wrong here, something Namjoon can't see._

It feels like there’s a huge piece of the puzzle that he’s still missing, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to find what he’s looking for. He’s not even sure what the final picture looks like, he’s just scrambling to fill in the blank spaces with what little he has, and the drive to prove it. 

The question is, does he pursue this and potentially push Namjoon away inadvertently, or does he let Hoseok go, with all of the unanswered questions? Yoongi doesn’t think he can pursue both paths. Investigating Hoya and keeping Namjoon close feel like trying to push two opposing magnets together. 

If he has to let go of one, how does he make that decision? 

He lets his eyes fall closed yet again as he falls deeper into thought. Searching for Hoseok has been one of the few constants in his life over the years, but so has Namjoon. Hell, Yoongi can’t even imagine his life without him, and doesn’t want to. That should be answer enough, and yet… Yoongi is intimately familiar with life without Hoseok, and while it’s not bad, it’s so far from complete and fulfilling. He wants a dream come true of him andNamjoon bringing Hoseok home _together_. 

It’s nothing but a pipe dream, really. Either he would have to slip up and expose himself as Hoseok, or Namjoon would have to trust Yoongi’s weird gut instincts blindly against his own nature. Yoongi can’t bring himself to ask that of Namjoon, and nor can he anticipate Hoseok to make any mistakes, when he’s been so thorough and careful thus far. 

The blonde swallows the lump in his throat, and knows his decision has been made. He’ll let Hoseok go, and try to trust that maybe, just maybe, he does have good reasons to remain as Hoya. If at some point, an opportunity presents itself without harming either of them, he’ll take it. But for now, he accepts that he cannot push further without wrecking the delicate situation that everyone’s in.

When he opens his eyes again, he takes one last look at the blindingly bright sunrise. _If only the future was as bright as this,_ he thinks sadly. With that last thought, he decides to head back downstairs, back to the hotel room he shares with the one man who’s been by his side consistently for years. 

After swiping his keycard to let him inside, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcomes him, as does the sound of the shower running. He hopes he hasn’t worried Namjoon at all, he truly hadn’t anticipated being gone for as long as he had. He strips off the layers of clothes he doesn’t need while indoors and helps himself to a cup of coffee. Busying himself with his phone, he pulls up the webpage of the dance event later tonight, combing over it another time just to get an understanding of Hoseok's new life and world through the screen. 

The poem at the top of the page brings a frown to his lips again, and it’s ridiculous why. The poem talks about the sun being extinguished, and he understands the concept is darkness, but… he hates that poem because he can't help but imagine Hoseok being extinguished instead. With a sigh, he scrolls past the eerie, foreboding poem and down to the solo section, lingering on the picture he opened the page up to see to begin with. Hoseok's image is easily the most elaborate of the three soloists, considering his concept. 

_Black Swan._ He does look the part, with the glorious jet black feathery wings on his shoulder. He looks dark, ominous, and edgy. It’s exactly the kind of thing that would surface in one of his nightmares. He also… looks strikingly beautiful. His skin looks smooth as glass, as if he’s made of porcelain. The stoic expression on his features is reminiscent of a statue, like some gothic piece in a museum. He wonders what the performance will be like, and tries to stop himself from imagining any of the body horror that the movie dabbled into. He doesn’t want to see Hoseok bloody or harming himself, doesn’t want to see him dying in any way… performing arts or not. 

He sighs again and scrolls further, checking out the program for the evening. Thirteen different performances are planned, most all of which include him. In some of the performances he isn’t in, he’s still credited for musical arrangement. Chances are, the performance aspect of tonight will take around an hour and a half, maybe two hours. The tickets Namjoon got from Jimin are gold status— meaning they’re invited to the reception afterward to connect with the dancers, and probably eat snacks. That equates to roughly three hours of delving deep into the world of performing arts and the strange social circle that comes with it.

Yoongi can do this. He can. 

The blonde startles slightly when Namjoon reenters the room, a smile stretching across his lips as he sees him. “Good morning,” he says, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek. 

A small smile crosses his lips, too, as the brunette pulls back. “Good morning,” he replies, his heart fluttering slightly in his chest. He wonders if the butterflies will ever lessen around him. Even when he’s been sulking and deep in thought all morning, all it takes to have that effect is a simple kiss. It's equal parts lovely and distracting. Thankfully right now is a good time to be distracted.

“Did you go for a walk?” Namjoon asks as he drinks from his own coffee cup. 

“Sort of,” he answers back, getting comfortable in his seat. “I went up to the deck this morning. It was cold as fuck but the sunrise was beautiful, at least.” It was nice to have a moment to ground himself, too. He needed the moment alone to prepare himself for the day… to have this conversation. “I also got Hoya’s test results back from Kara’s friend. The blood isn’t a match to anyone in the police database, and it wasn’t a match to Hoseok, either.” He tries to not sound as disappointed about that as he is, though it takes a lot of effort. "The investigation is over."

Namjoon stills, and nods really slowly in acknowledgement of his words. “I’m sorry, hyung. I know you were certain that Hoya was Hoseok,” he says with sympathy shining in his eyes. Eyes that still seem off whenever he says anything about Hoya being Hoseok. It doesn’t feel like he’s lying, but it doesn’t feel like the words are his. That thought is ridiculous and impossible, though.

 _Let it go_ , he reminds himself. It’s not worth damaging his relationship with Namjoon, especially with some of the newer changes that have happened the past couple of days. Maybe Yoongi was never meant to be whole. 

“It’s okay,” he says, though the words taste like acid on his tongue. “I just want to forget about it,” he adds, shaking his head as if he could shake off the nagging feeling that something’s amiss. 

“Yoongi… I can tell you’re downplaying this,” Namjoon says, taking his hand and looking at him with a serious look in his eyes. “Talk to me, please.” His eyes look so sincere, and they’re drawing him in, encouraging the words to go past his lips. 

But he’s scared, and there’s something still off about him. He bites his bottom lip and looks away from those intense eyes because he can’t quite do it. Opening up to him usually doesn’t feel this hard, and yet it’s like he’s going against his instincts. Maybe it's the awareness now that he has of his own inclinations to hold back, and how transparent the actions are to Namjoon. That should make it easier to open up, really, but there's a certain kind of intimacy that kind of transparency brings, and he hasn't yet adjusted to it. If he tells him about feeling like he has to choose between the investigation and being here with Namjoon, what would the other say? He probably would be supportive, it’s just… Yoongi’s not sure if he’s willing to risk it. Keeping silent, though, is likely to cause a chasm between them just like yesterday, and fuck, that was hell. 

He huffs out a sigh. There are no good options here. “I just don’t know if it’d be good for me to pursue investigating Hoya, even though I don’t doubt for a second he’s Hoseok still.” There, the words are out now. With a renewed resolve, he finds himself pressing further. “I don’t know how to prove it, but Hoya is Hoseok. I probably sound crazy to you, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or push you out of your comfort zone. I feel like continuing to investigate him would push you away. I just feel… alone.” The admission catches him by surprise, because it hadn’t crossed his mind that that’s how he feels until the words are out loud. 

The brunette’s expression furrows, but he doesn’t look angry at all. If anything, he looks… thoughtful. He squeezes his hand, and Yoongi feels a little foolish for worrying so much. “Hyung, you aren’t alone. I’m right here. And… you don’t sound crazy. There's something strange going on here. I know I tend to follow the facts… but your intuition is one I trust, and crazier things have happened lately,” he says, his voice growing quiet as the reminder of the dream crosses both their minds. 

Yoongi’s… really fucking touched. He shouldn’t be surprised, but his emotional state this morning wasn’t the best, so hearing his response gives him the deepest sense of relief he’s had in a while. He pulls him into a hug, pressing a tender kiss to the nook of his neck. “I love you, so much,” he murmurs, unable to form any other words. “I’m sorry for being so emotional.” 

“No, don’t apologize,” Namjoon says softly, returning the embrace and rubbing his back affectionately. His hand feels so comforting as it moves up and down. Yoongi can feel tension in his body releasing, letting him truly relax. “This has been an overwhelming trip so far. It’s okay to not be okay and to get caught up in your worries with everything going on. I’m just glad you talked to me so we could work it out.” Those strong arms give him a squeeze. “If you’re sure about him, then we’ll keep investigating. I’m always here for you, Yoongs. Always,” he whispers, bringing his lips to the shell of his ear. "I will never doubt you, or think you're crazy. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met, hyung."

Yoongi melts against Namjoon like butter on warm toast, just embracing the moment and allowing it provide him with comfort. The brunette isn’t wrong about this trip being overwhelming. This is only their third morning in Seattle, yet so much has happened. Everything has changed in just a matter of days, and all of the nightmares have been exhausting. The one good thing to come out of this so far has been the evolution of their relationship. He buries his face into Namjoon, taking some deep breaths to help him calm down. 

They’ll get through this. And if Namjoon’s going to support Yoongi’s investigation, then there’s no reason to not do so. Tonight at the showcase, Yoongi’s going to try to get some answers. 

A plan begins to formulate in his head to get Hoseok alone in hopes that without prying eyes, maybe he’ll be able to get him to open up. He might need Namjoon’s help distracting Jimin, but… if he can get Hoseok to slip up and make a mistake, then maybe he’ll be willing to let them in to help him. He emits a soft hum as he thinks over a variety of ways that might work. 

Until it hits him that Hoseok knew the blood test result would come back negative, and is probably expecting Namjoon and him to drop the investigation. But… what if Yoongi lies, and says it was a positive match? He wouldn’t be expecting it, and if he plays his cards right, there’s no way Hoseok would be able to save face. It’s manipulative, so he does have some reservations about it, but… if he’s in danger, Yoongi could never live with himself if he didn’t at least try to help him now that he knows Namjoon's got his back. Though his life as Hoya seems simple enough, every time Yoongi’s around him, he gets such a bad feeling in his stomach, similar to the goosebumps rising on the back of your neck when someone’s watching you. Even if he didn’t get a sense of danger, the sadness that radiates off of him is also cause for concern. 

If Yoongi’s dreams are to be trusted, then he can’t ignore a few signs from them. Though he’s dreamt of Hoseok being hurt far too many times in his dreams over the years, it was never explicitly death he saw… it was only implied. It was in the dream he shared with Namjoon that ended in an undeniably dead Hoseok. If the other times he dreamt of death are anything to go by… then that means this most recent dream is the most significant. Hoseok is alive right now. Yoongi’s seen him with his own eyes. But the dreams might be telling him that he won’t be for much longer. And maybe… maybe his dream repeated itself because he has a chance to prevent it from happening. 

He won’t be too late to save him this time. He _won’t_. 

“Namjoon, I have an idea…” he starts, explaining his plan for the night as he withdraws from their embrace. The other man listens intently, nodding and adding his own thoughts on the matter. It feels so much better knowing he’s still undeniably on his side, supporting him with this. Bouncing ideas off of one another brings a sense of familiarity with it and helps him stay calm. It doesn’t feel like there’s as much at stake as there is. 

After the details are fleshed out, they decide to get on with their day. They get dressed and ready for the showcase earlier than necessary, mostly because they don’t want to have to come back to the hotel beforehand. Their outfits are likely draw attention wherever they go, but it’s something Yoongi and Namjoon can put up with for the sake of convenience. 

It might be a little ridiculous of him, but Yoongi wants to dress to impress. He wants to look good. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything like that, though. He takes his time styling his hair specifically, and he’s glad they already went shopping yesterday. His outfit is simple overall with every piece of clothing being black, but the intricacy is in the details. The button down is silky and embroidered with a small design near the collar. He hates wearing slacks, so he opted for brand-new black jeans and a nice black blazer with small white and silver details. 

Namjoon looks just as good if not even better than he does, opting to wear a form-fitting white turtleneck sweater, a stylish navy blue suit jacket with a silver design etched into the fabric, and a pair of white denim jeans. Coupled with his fluffy medium brown hair, he looks a little like an angel and a lot like a dream, especially with the way his hair is slicked back and styled. 

“Damn,” he says playfully, eyes lingering on Namjoon’s legs. “You look sexy as fuck.” 

The brunette’s lips curl into a smirk as he walks over, looming over Yoongi with a gaze that should be illegal when they don’t have time to do anything. “Oh?” he asks, sliding an arm around his waist, resting on the small of his back, sending a thrill down his spine. “I’m not the only one. You clean up nicely, baby.” 

He shudders at the tone and the pet name, but doesn’t back down. Instead, he leans closer towards him and slides a hand around his backside, letting his hand settle into the back pocket of his jeans, shamelessly fondling his ass. “There are so many things I want to do with you,” he says in a lower pitch. “Soon.” 

“Soon,” Namjoon echoes with a smile on his lips as his other hand cups Yoongi’s cheek, guiding him to the kiss he initiates. Yoongi lets himself get lost in the sensations for just a moment, loving the way their bodies fit together like this, and the taste of Namjoon on his tongue before they both pull back. They can’t get too carried away if they still want to make time to check out Pike Place Market. 

“We should get going,” he says against Namjoon's lips, pressing one last peck there before looking up to meet his gaze. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on the weirdest market on the west coast, would we?” 

The brunette laughs softly and nods, moving his hand to safer territory-- Yoongi’s hand. 

“Nope, I’m looking forward to it,” he replies, leading them out the door. 

The two of them enjoy a brief moment of indulging in their vacation, checking out various stalls and what not, taking in all that there is to offer at the market. The two of them didn’t intend to seriously shop, considering they’re heading to the showcase right after and don’t want to have to drop anything off or leave it in the car. Namjoon does end up buying a nice, handmade leather bag from one of the vendors that matches his outfit well. For the most part, they enjoy sampling random goods and browsing through the more fascinating shops. Yoongi adores his reactions to some of the stalls… there’s this pine soap that he wrinkles his nose at in distaste. 

“Aigoo, stop being so cute,” he comments and Namjoon makes a face that’s even _cuter_. 

Yoongi can’t help but lean in closer to him and peck his dimpled cheek before they move on to a vendor offering samples of honey with different fruit flavours. It’s too sweet for Yoongi, though Namjoon ends up buying a few tubes to put in his bag because he likes so many of them. 

It doesn’t take long for them to grow hungry for real food, though, so they stop at one of the bakeries to pick up something to eat. The lines everywhere are a little long, but once they have something to eat, they decide to exit the market and sit outside, where it’s actually sunny for once. They find a bench overlooking the waterfront, and finish off their food, talking about their favourite parts of the market so far. 

But the time passes far too quickly. As they soak up the day and make the most of the shops, their time quickly begins to run out. On their way out of the market, Yoongi decides to buy a small bouquet of flowers, since that’s an appropriate gift for a soloist, right? Namjoon smiles and gives him a thumbs up at the bouquet he selects. It has a half dozen red roses mixed with a half dozen sunflowers, decorated by some greens and baby's breath to give it a polished finish. The sunflowers are too perfect of a fit, he thinks, and everyone knows what red roses mean. Yoongi looks up to his partner, wondering if he's going to say anything, but Namjoon just smiles sweetly at him without even the slightest hint of jealousy present. 

When they leave the market, it’s about four in the evening, and they decide to get an early dinner at a French restaurant in Post Alley, a couple minutes’ walking distance from the exit of the market. The meal is delicious and doesn’t take long-- they beat the dinner rush most likely. Yoongi drinks a couple of glasses of wine, knowing he’s going to need it to watch the performance tonight. Namjoon drinks a bit, too, but not as much. 

The dinner passes by just as quickly as the earlier parts of the day, and before they know it, they’re in the uber on their way to the Meany Center for the Arts. Yoongi tries to not fidget too much, which thankfully the wine helped with, though he’s still wringing his hands nervously. Namjoon seems to be just as deep in thought, though he still has an air of excitement about him that hasn’t dissipated as the day goes on. The blonde is rather conflicted… he’s excited to see Hoseok doing something he’s passionate about, but the concept is internally eating away at him. He really hopes he’s just psyching himself out, and the performance won’t be as dark as he expects. 

“Thank you for the ride,” he says to the driver once they pull up. Yoongi glances upwards at the warm glow of the building as he steps out of the car. The sun has begun to set in the sky, basking the city in a golden hued light while it paints the sky in pastel blues and pinks. 

Funny how Yoongi gets to see both sunrise and sunset in the same day, let alone one as suspenseful as this. It feels significant, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it for too long. He takes Namjoon’s hand and holds the bouquet in the other as they make their way to the queue. They’ve just begun letting the gold ticket holders into the venue, so their timing couldn’t have been more perfect. 

Earlier in the day, he briefly wondered if they would be overdressed for the occasion. After all, it is a college performance, and college kids don’t have many formal events. But he's glad to know that his worries are unfounded, because they definitely aren’t overdressed in comparison to a lot of the people in attendance. 

After a second, he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns around only to see Jimin standing there with a friendly smile. “Hello! The two of you look fantastic,” he compliments cheerfully. His arm is around a strikingly beautiful Latina woman wearing a form fitting white cocktail dress… who must be apart of Jimin and Hoseok’s relationship. He remembers seeing her from his social media posts, but he doesn’t remember her name. “I’m glad the two of you could make it tonight.” 

“Thank you,” Yoongi says with a small smile. “So do you!” The other blonde man is wearing a silvery suit that certainly flaunts his dancer's build and wealthy status. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says back, his accent thicker over those words. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to mine and Hoya’s radiant girlfriend,” he says, gesturing towards the girl on his arm. 

“Hello, nice to meet you,” she says, flashing them a toothy smile and waving at them with her free hand. “I’m Becky!” Her dark hair is relatively a medium length, but it's pulled back into a tight high ponytail. Her makeup is flawless, and she reminds him of a singer that Hoseok had a poster of in their dorm room back in their college days.

“Hello, I’m Namjoon Kim, but you can call me NJ or Joon if that's easier,” the brunette greets with a smile. He doesn’t look as if he was anticipating Hoseok’s social circle talking to them. Well, if Yoongi’s honest, he didn’t anticipate it either… but he’s not getting bad vibes like he typically does around large groups of strangers. He glances at each of them, taking in all of their outfits and hairstyles. It seems as if everyone jumped at the opportunity to dress up, because every one of them is dressed like they are planning to walk the red carpet in Hollywood.

“I’m Yoongi,” he says with a genuine smile. He _refuses_ to say his family name after his given name because of how weird that still is to him, so he leaves it as just his “first” name. 

" _Hyung, you didn’t introduce us!_ ” a tall Korean man says from behind Jimin, using entirely Korean in his words. It makes Yoongi do a double take, because it’s been a while since someone other than Namjoon has used Korean around him. He wears a pout on his lips and scooches Jimin away from the two of them. His hair is a similar shade to Namjoon’s, but a lot fluffier since it hasn’t been styled with gel. On his right side stands another Korean man, who’s wearing an amused and fond expression. His hair is natural black, but long enough to be pulled into a low ponytail. Various little tattoos can be seen on his hands, and he wears a lot of silver jewelry. 

Yoongi doesn’t need to be introduced to them, though. He recognizes them as “the kids” that Hoseok and Jimin talked about yesterday. The energy he gets from the taller one, Taehyung, is strange… but not at all in a bad way. Strange as in he feels an instant connection to him, but can’t pinpoint why that might be. It’s like the air around him is buzzing with energy, but also like… something’s holding it back. It puzzles him for a moment before he lets the thought go, too distracted by all of the people to linger on just him for long.

Jimin rolls his eyes and lets himself be moved, taking Becky along with him. “I’ve already shown them your photographs,” he says in his own defense, but lets out a laugh anyway. He shakes his head in amusement. “They know who you are!”

“It’s not _official_ official until we’ve met in person,” the tall one says, scrunching up his face. “I’m Taehyung! This is my boyfriend Kookie,” he says, holding up the hand he’s been holding this whole time. “He’s a shy little bunny.” 

“Hmph! I can introduce myself,” ‘Kookie’ says indignantly, but with a laugh. “I’m Jungkook, please don’t listen to my crazy boyfriend. He’s had too much caffeine tonight.” His eyes are big and doe-like, reminding Yoongi so much of Hoseok. 

Actually, in all of the people here tonight, they each remind him of Hoseok in their own ways. It makes sense, that he’d find his way to people like them. What doesn’t make any sense, though, is why he would keep them away from all of this. So far, Yoongi hasn’t sensed any danger whatsoever. Not a single bad feeling has come from any of them, which… puzzles him a bit. Why the hell is Hoseok living under an alias? Do these people even know he has a past with them? 

He shakes the thought off, when someone else approaches their group-- or rather, two someones. Yoongi immediately gets a strange sense from both of them, but especially the male newcomer. He looks handsome enough to be an idol or a model back in Korea, and has the height for it, too. It’s like he has the same energy Taehyung has rolling off of him, only it’s not held back at all. His brow furrows as he looks at him. “Yah! Saving the best for last, I see. I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin.” He adds a wink to his words. 

“I see you saved the _true_ best for last,” the woman on his arm says with a smirk. “I’m Irene, Jin's colleague. It's very nice to meet you.” She also looks like she could be a model in Korea, with her double eyelids, spotless skin, and silky long black hair. Her shimmery black cocktail dress looks expensive. 

Yoongi sort of feels like he’s walked on set to a Korean drama of some kind. While none of them give him any sort of bad feelings, he also feels a bit socially overwhelmed. When was the last time he hung out with anyone other than Namjoon, let alone more than two people at once? He really should get out more. Tonight is really showing just how much of an antisocial hermit he’s been in recent years. A strange sense of longing washes over him, seeing this group together like this. They clearly know each other well, and... that's something Yoongi certainly lacks. People, especially in groups, have always been a struggle for him. He wants to be included in one someday, though. 

“Nice to meet everyone,” Namjoon says back to them, likely sensing the nerves coming from Yoongi. “Are you all here for Hoya, too?” A wave of gratitude washes over him, and he squeezes his hand to convey silently how much he loves and appreciates him. He’ll let his partner do all the talking for the night. 

“Yep, that cheeky bastard’s got quite the collection of misfits supporting him,” Jimin says playfully, a gleam in his eyes as he speaks. “He’s quite good at finding us.” 

“Yah, speak for yourself. I’m not a misfit,” Seokjin says with a scoff. 

“Yeah, sure you aren’t,” Taehyung quips. “You rival _me_ when it comes to crack-headedness and you always tell ridiculous dad jokes. Don’t lie. I have evidence!” 

The words cause Yoongi to laugh a little, catching him off guard. He may be a little socially uneasy, but these guys are surprisingly comfortable to be around. Eventually they all begin chatting away about different performances they’re looking forward to watching, and the conversation splits off in a few different directions amongst pairs. It seems like Jimin’s helped the dancers with a lot of choreography being performed, and he explains vaguely some of the themes of various ones throughout the night. 

It doesn’t take them long to get through the line to enter the venue and find their seats. Naturally they’re all seated on the same side of the stage, so the conversation doesn’t quite falter. Becky and Namjoon strike up a conversation about music, and the two of them animatedly exchange opinions about songs that are popular at the moment. Yoongi could chime in, but… he kind of likes just watching the moment and committing it to memory. It’s nice to see Namjoon opening up to the people around him, especially people that feel as good-natured as they do. 

When the lights dim and the director comes on stage, thanking everyone for coming and introducing the concept, Yoongi can feel goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. She talks about the students' inspirations and concepts coming from their own personal experiences, and about the proceeds from tonight's performance going to a local charity to help provide youth with mental health assistance. Once she’s done reading off the poem about the sun vanishing… the lights turn off entirely, and the whole hall goes black. Yoongi swallows nervously. The performances he’s about to see are likely going to be a bit… intense. Mentally he prepares himself and leans close to Namjoon, who presses a kiss to his temple. 

The first song… is eerie, starting off very quietly, with a piercing note that doesn’t help the goosebumps on his skin. Eventually instruments layer in, one by one, building suspensefully to a chorus. The lights focus on the dancer in the center of the stage, in a pale blue hue, giving the performance a cold feeling to it. The choreography is fascinating to watch, though it isn’t as dark as he thinks it could be, and he’s grateful for it. The song radiates sadness, especially with the swelling of the beats, but it’s not too much for Yoongi to bare. Hoseok's skills are all encompassing, though he's not designed to be the center of attention in this dance. He looks fully absorbed in the emotions he's portraying, feeling every single emotion and displaying it for all to see. 

The second performance is a pas de deux, featuring Hoseok and a petite female dancer. The slow, jazzy beats and shrill violin trills compliment the push and pull of their choreography well. If Yoongi didn't know any better, he would believe that Hoseok is madly in love with his dance partner-- his facial expressions are so chillingly convincing. Hoseok lifts her up like it's as easy as breathing, turning while supporting her full weight despite how thin his arms look. He gracefully sets her down, and when his partner pushes him away and pirouettes away from him, he looks positively devastated. Every touch between him and the girl is full of chemistry, so much so that Yoongi's gaze drifts over to Jimin and Becky. Both of them look riveted, but not jealous in the slightest. The blonde doesn't have a clue how they could watch this and _not_ feel like they're intruding on something private. As their dance comes to an end, the two dancers go their separate ways, each looking back at the other but missing each other's gaze. 

The dances following that one are a bit more chill in comparison. They venture into other dark concepts, like madness, good versus evil, war, or false accusations. None of them are boring, but they don't quite enchant him the way the dances featuring Hoseok do. He plays more of a minor role in these performances, though he lingers in the front often, likely due to his skill. He's not in all of them, either, which is fair. Whenever he does dance, though, he's incredible to watch. The attention to detail he gives to the choreography is impeccable. He catches the smallest of movements, and his angles all are clean and precise. It's clear that he's insanely talented, but it's also clear to Yoongi that this isn't his style. 

That doesn’t make him any less impressive to watch, though. If anything, it kind of makes him more impressed-- it would take so much time and commitment to be this good in a form of art that isn't in his comfort zone. With every movement of his arms and legs, he shines like a star. It’s obvious the choreographers know his skill-- he’s often easy to see, in the center or in front. 

The other soloists do a great job, too, but one performance… hits a little too close to home. He gets a bit nervous when the creepiest take on Moonlight Sonata he’s ever heard comes on, and the female soloist performing it slowly unwinds the scarlet red ribbons on her wrists, painting the image of someone self-harming and running out of time. Her pirouettes and foot work are precise, full of control but looking effortless. She does an allegro turn sequence, building to a grand battement. Her arms are rounded, hands wrapped around her wrists to stop the ribbons from unravelling. The choreography is fascinating to watch, though the anxiety in Yoongi's stomach intensifies while he watches, because the message behind it reminds him of the awful dreamscape.

In that dream, he’s certain Hoseok’s wounds were inflicted by someone else, not by himself, and yet… the theme of running out of time is far too present. His eyes flicker over towards Namjoon as the dancer on stage releases forward, feigning death, wondering how he’s feeling about it. The two of them were both very aware of the trigger warnings about the performances beforehand, and they still agreed to be here, but deciding that in the moment and seeing it are two different things. 

Namjoon appears to be fine though, meeting his gaze with questioning eyes, as if he’s checking on Yoongi, too. He nods slightly before returning his focus to the stage, grateful he took the moment to check on him. 

The next two performances are less intense, giving him an opportunity to relax in his seat. He just focuses more on his own breathing, and enjoying the well-composed music. Dance isn't something he personally knows a lot about, but he thinks he would love the expression it provides so much more if he wasn't so tense right now. His whole world feels like it's hanging in the balance, and watching a series of sad, dark dances is taking its toll on him. If it was anyone but Hoseok, he would be fine. This just hits too close to home right now. 

When the group performance ends and all of the dancers exit the stage, the lights flick off again, casting the whole performance hall in the shadows. There isn't any music yet, and the audience grows quiet with anticipation. Yoongi realizes that it's time for Hoseok's solo, especially as the darkness and quiet drags onwards. He takes comfort in the fact that he isn't the only one waiting on the edge of his seat for _something._ A single spotlight shines on the center of the stage, though the curtains are closed, so there isn't anything to see yet. 

Finally, sounds can be heard. It starts off with the sound of quiet footsteps… though it’s far too loud to be Hoseok on stage, so it must be from the audio track thus far. Most of the performances have been entirely instrumental, so Yoongi startles when a recording of a quote being said in Hoseok’s foreign voice as Hoya. 

“A dancer dies twice-- once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful -- Martha Graham,” Hoseok’s voice sounds so agonized as he says it. Yoongi can hear the pain in each syllable as he enunciates each word. As Hoya, his tone has been mostly flat and cold, but here, even though he still uses the British accent, the emotion is undeniably strong. "This is the story of my first death." 

There’s another pause of silence, building up the suspense before the curtains draw back and it's reavealed that the spotlight is focusing on Hoseok in the center of the stage. His back is to the audience, arms held elegantly in second position. He wears a slightly shimmery white shirt that's hanging loosely on his small frame on top while snugly fit black pants cling to his slim legs on bottom. His feet are bare. Behind him is a narrow but elegant white staircase that's at least ten feet tall and backless. It makes sense that there was an extended pause before his performance, setting this up behind the curtain. Yoongi's heart skips a beat as he recalls the movie, where the white swan commits suicide. Hoseok's arms move, extending behind himself with flexed wrists, likely moving into the starting position of the choreography.

When the music starts, it _starts_. Yoongi had been expecting a take on Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake score, but the song that plays sounds entirely new, full of classy sounding strings. Yoongi's inner musician is frozen in shock at the arrangement-- he can hear both western and eastern instruments, blending together exquisitely. Hoseok’s body moves with the trilling music like water flowing in a river as he sways from side to side, so in time that he literally _is_ the music in human form. His arms come up to fifth position above his head, though his wrists are flexed in opposite directions, painting the image of a swan flapping its wings. Each rise and fall of his arms is so effortlessly elegant that Yoongi can't possibly look away.

The music is full of texture, beautiful chord progressions in every part. Its composition is reminiscent of a string quartet, but so much more is layered over it that he can't be sure. He isn't even sure if the song is in major or minor, like the two identities are fighting with one another, much like the battle of the white swan versus the black swan. The choreography starts off with light feet and grand, elegant movements. Hoseok travels across the stage in large circles, a series of pirouettes and smooth leaps. One of his turns goes from standing to the floor in a 450 degree rotation, and Yoongi can't even process how he did it. On the floor, his expression portrays someone ready to give up, but backing out at the last second. From a deep plié, he jumps forwards, landing in an attitude devant with both arms raised. 

The strings create tension and suspense as they power onward, sounding as if they are chasing one another. The illusion of the black swan catching up with him is ever present, and when Hoseok releases back onto the floor, laying on his back, his right arm reaches upwards, like he's trying to touch the sky. The music swells just as he brings the hand sharply into his side, as if plunging a knife into his stomach. Yoongi's hand subconsciously tightens, squeezing Namjoon's hand with a deathly tight grip. His other hand is over his pounding heart. It's so hard to watch, but too beautiful to look away. 

Hoseok rises on stage, and to Yoongi's horror, there's scarlet red liquid shining under the stage lights at his side, starkly contrasting from his white shirt. From here on, his style of dance takes on a new identity. His movements are sharper, more frantic, far more complicated. From a technicality standpoint, this second half of his choreography is leagues harder. He moves into a chain of intricate turns starting with pirouettes and growing with intensity. When he jumps in a picture perfect ballon, his two legs are parellel with the ground as he reaches his peak height in the air. When he lands, he lands _perfectly_ in time with a heavy downbeat in the music, the thump resonating through the whole hall. Yoongi's breath catches as Hoseok moves into an arabesque, his gaze longingly looking up at his hand before eyeing the crowd, making eye contact with him. His gaze is terrifying, as if he really is embracing nothing but the darkness within. His own black swan is front and center right now, and maybe his inner white swan is really gone.

Yoongi doesn't notice that he's shaking until Namjoon's hand releases his in favour of wrapping an arm over him despite the awkward arm rest between their seats. He can't look away, though. The performance is seductive, powerful. Hoseok _commands_ the attention of the audience, owning the stage as he drags his right hand over his extended left arm, splitting the shirt at a seam. It's likely just velcro, but it looks effortless as his skin is revealed to the audience. He pliés backwards before throwing himself into another pirouette, and the other sleeve is split in half, too. The shirt is only held together at his waist, sleeves flapping around him as he spins. He halts, yet again in perfect sync with the music, and sommersalts backwards. When he comes up again, Yoongi gasps. The shirt is gone entirely, and on his back is an enormous tattoo of two jet black angel wings, spanning from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. It doesn't look like makeup. 

_Holy shit._ Yoongi is so shocked seeing such a large tattoo exposed to him like this. It looks like he has more decorating his skin in other places, but they're much smaller and he moves far too fast for him to get a good look at them. The dance doesn't let him stew on it, though, because his movements are enchanting, if not terrifying. The suspense in the music builds with a heavy clunk, like the ticking of a clock. Every instruments' lines build to a climax, and when they do, Hoseok is standing on his arms, legs snapping together in time with the music on each beat, emphasizing time running out. It's a common motif, it would seem. 

On his bare stomach, there isn't a real wound, which brings a strange sense of relief to him, even as Hoseok's heavy, sorrowful gaze sweeps the audience. He climbs the steps elegantly as the strings' high notes resolve the melody, a heartbreaking and tragic ending. As the final measures echo in the hall, Hoseok makes eye contact with him again like he is trying to send _him_ a message with this performance. Yoongi’s blood is rushing in his ears, making it difficult to hear the beautiful but tragic music. He knows he's about to jump, he knows what that's supposed to symbolize, and god, Yoongi _can't handle it._ He ducks into Namjoon's side like a frightened child at a horror movie. He can’t watch it, can’t watch Hoseok die in any capacity, not even in a performance. 

Though he has his eyes squeezed shut, he can hear as the music grows quiet and slower, the sad sounds of the strings resonating with him. His imagination is far too good for his sanity, because he can imagine Hoseok jumping from a cliff, like in one of his dreams from years ago. He hates it, hates that he can picture him dead so easily. 

The audience cheers so fucking loudly, too. From an artistic standpoint, Yoongi knows everything about this was top tier. The musical arrangement, the choreography, the execution of it. He can see the meaning, can understand that the message is about a metaphorical death and finally being at peace, but he’s never felt so alarmed. 

In his dreams, even though some of the horrors he saw there were things that actually happened, they were still in his _dreams_. Most of the time, he knew that he was dreaming, and that it wasn’t a reality. Yoongi hasn’t ever first-hand witnessed something like this while awake. That’s the difference here. _This is reality_. 

“Hey, baby, it’s over now,” Namjoon whispers into his ear before giving him another kiss. 

Yoongi pulls back reluctantly, not wanting to look back at the stage at all… but he’s glad he did, because he can see Hoseok standing and bowing, absolutely fine and _not dead._ It helps him breathe easier, and he lets out a heavy sigh of relief. Hoseok flashes a smile at the audience as he leaves the stage, almost apologetic because he has to be aware of how intense that was. There’s no way he could be oblivious to that. 

The rest of the performances are intense in their own ways, but they don’t have the ability to effect him like Hoseok’s solo performance did. He’s relieved when the showcase is over, though, because he needs some air after all of that. 

Before they head to the reception area, Yoongi ducks down an abandoned hallway, leading Namjoon with him. Yoongi needs something physical to lean against, so he presses his back against the wall. For a moment, he just focuses on his breath, breathing in and out. Namjoon leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, obviously worried and apologetic. He rests a supportive hand on his side, staying so much closer than he normally would when they're in public. Neither of them were prepared for how strongly this would affect Yoongi. He's still shaking slightly, gripping the bouquet of flowers like a lifeline. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks after a few moments, once Yoongi’s reopened his eyes. 

He purses his lips before offering him a small smile. “I’ll be okay. I just… that was a lot. Amazingly well done, but not easy to watch.” His words are all genuine and he leans towards Namjoon, wrapping him in a hug. “I know it’s just a performance, and that he’ll be fine when we go to the reception, it’s just… I don’t want to think about him hurting himself. I’m glad we got to come, though. It’s really good to see something he’s passionate about.” He does mean the words, not regretting attending the event at all. 

Namjoon nods, holding him close but he looks like he’s struggling to find words, too. 

“How are you doing?” he asks him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. 

“I’m okay, just a little… unsettled. Hoya seems like a really intense person, but his friends… I don’t know. Is it just me, or do all of his friends seem like exactly the kind of people Hoseok would be around?” he asks, his forehead creasing in the thoughts. He looks so conflicted, and Yoongi wishes he could clear it all up, but he doesn’t have the answers either. Tonight, though, that’ll hopefully change. 

“They do seem like good people,” Yoongi murmurs, brushing their noses together. “We’ll get through this. I promise.” He meets his gaze with an intense nod before withdrawing and opting to take his hand instead. 

The two of them walk towards the reception area, hand in hand. Yoongi is so grateful to not be alone, yet the gratitude is being overridden by a sense of dread coming from somewhere he can’t pinpoint. He feels like the rest of tonight is going to be even harder than watching the showcase itself. With a shake of his head, he wills the thoughts to go away and scans the crowd of nicely dressed people, looking for Hoseok or someone close to him. 

Unsurprisingly, he can't spot him at first. There are so many people, too many for Yoongi's liking. Strangers are surrounding him, and he doesn't recognize anyone except for Namjoon. He's so thankful that he's there, because right now, he's feeling so ridiculously overwhelmed. His panic begins to grow despite Namjoon's comfort, when _finally_ he sees who he's looking for. Hoseok is surrounded by a ton of people, with Becky to his right and Jimin on the other side of her. To Hoseok's left is another dancer, perhaps the girl he performed a pas de deux with on stage. Yoongi doesn't care about that, though, too focused on _him._

Hoseok looks shy under all of the praise, but also really happy. He's dressed in a stylish grey suit, with his hair parted to one side. That was always one of Yoongi's favourite hair styles on him, and it makes breathing harder again. Hoseok ducks his head down and smiles genuinely, though his smiles are cautious, like they're formed nervously. The smiles he used to show years ago were so much more free, with unrestrained happiness. Will he ever be happy again? Yoongi’s really not sure the answer to that question. He still doesn’t know what happened to him at all. He doesn’t know why he’s so cautious and reserved now. 

He stews in his thoughts, hanging off around the peripheral of the circle around him, wondering when they might get a good chance to talk to him. It seems like everyone here wants a piece of his attention... which unfortunately means Yoongi might have to wait quite some time. 

“I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” Namjoon asks, squeezing his hand before letting it go when he shakes his head. “Okay, I’ll be right back, then.” 

Yoongi nods and smiles back at him, hand clutching the bouquet like it's a teddy bear. It’s a little uncomfortable, being in such a crowded space with so many strangers, but he’s growing used to it. He doesn’t have the time— or energy for that matter— to devote to anything but focusing on his plan. After a minute or two, some of the crowd dissipates, leaving mostly just Hoseok’s closer circle around him. Now’s probably the best time for him to initiate his plan. He glances over at Namjoon, an unspoken question in his expression, who’s over by the drink counter and gives him a pointed nod. 

Action time. 

Yoongi puts on the biggest smile he can manage, and walks right up to Hoseok. “Hey! Your performance was amazing,” he says genuinely, and holds the bouquet out for him to take. Thankfully it isn't crushed, despite his tense grip on it. 

“Thank you!” Hoseok’s eyes fall to the bouquet with a touched expression crossing his face, and he blinks in surprise. “Are these for me?” he asks in a small voice. The surprise is genuine, and it’s a bit like a breath of fresh air seeing Hoseok sincere in something again. 

“Yeah, they are,” Yoongi answers, trying to keep his breathing steady. Being so close to him again after so long is making his heartbeat race. Hoseok looks so fucking beautiful, with his brown and blonde long hair, big brown eyes, and heart shaped lips that are actually _smiling for once_. It’s making it hard to breathe. He feels hot with the attention of everyone on him right now, even if Hoseok's friends feel like good people. “Would it be possible for us to have a moment alone?” he manages to ask, hoping that Hoseok can still pick up on his silent plea, or maybe remember that Yoongi doesn't do well in crowds. 

Hoseok accepts the flowers and gives a slow nod before leaning over to whisper in Becky's ear and waving Jimin in closer. Yoongi’s not trying to listen, but he can easily hear him. “Hey, loves, I’m going to get some air. Hold the fort, will you?” 

She flashes them both a dazzling smile and nods, waving at Yoongi in particular. Jimin nods, too, a strangely knowing look in his eyes that Yoongi doesn't know what to do with. "I knew you would need a moment out of the spotlight, sunshine," Jimin says. "I've got your back."

Just like that, Hoseok gives him a nod and he gingerly takes Yoongi's hand to lead him away from the crowd. The touch is so simple, but Yoongi can feel Hoseok's dread despite the pretty smile he wears for everyone to see. Someone tries to get Hoseok’s attention, reaching for his arm on the other side of him, but he brushes them off instantly, and it floods him with a strange warmth that Hoseok still prioritizes him, even after all these years and all of these lies. “I’m busy at the moment. Perhaps you can find me later?” Hoseok says, still using that strange accent. 

Yoongi feels a little bad for what he’s about to do. Manipulating Hoseok isn’t something he’ll ever be totally okay with doing, but right now it’s his only option to get him to open up. He’ll have to take it, because another opportunity won’t likely happen anytime soon. The clock is already ticking, given that he and Namjoon started with a week’s long vacation, and they’re already days in. Once the two of them are alone, away from the chatter and background noise of the reception, Yoongi takes his eyes off of Hoseok and notices they’re standing in a dressing room. 

“So… what did you want to talk about?” Hoseok asks, blinking innocently at him, and _damn_ is his acting good. 

Yoongi takes a deep breath and steels his nerves enough to meet his gaze. It's now or never. “Your DNA results came in, Hoseok. I know it’s you, so drop the act,” he says firmly. No longer does he restrain his own expression— he lets it freely show his concern, his worry, his pain at how much it hurt being lied to. 

Hoseok’s expression, on the other hand, morphs into one of confusion and panic. He’s most definitely caught off guard, and this isn’t the reaction of someone who genuinely isn’t Hoseok. It’s the reaction of a liar who’s caught in the act, and doesn’t know what to say. For a moment he looks as if he’s going to say something in his defense and then… doesn’t. He breaks their eye contact and drops his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he says, and his voice breaks over the words, making Yoongi’s chest ache. 

Yoongi just wants to wrap him up in a hug and kiss his forehead… so he doesn’t let himself overthink it, and does just that, even as he tenses up. Holding him again after so long of being apart is overwhelming, in the sense that… this is _Hoseok_. He spent years worrying about him being dead or being gone, never to be seen again, and now, here he is _safe in his arms._ He squeezes him tight, soaking up this one moment for all it’s worth because he knows that things won’t be easy, that things will get messy and he just wants to hold him before the complications settle in. 

Hoseok’s response is tentative, hesitant, but he does return the embrace after a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, burying his face into his shoulder. He begins to cry, and his hold tightens on him. Yoongi brings a gentle hand up to run through his hair, hoping to provide him with some comfort. Whatever it is that happened to him... he _knows_ it was bad, and there’s no way he can hold a grudge against him for lying to him and Namjoon, even if it hurt like hell. He can sense so much pain and sorrow in him, and all he wants to do is ease it. 

“I forgive you,” Yoongi says, and he means it with every bone in his body. After all, he knows what it’s like pushing the ones you love away, and… he’s not entirely broken of the habit yet. Hoseok's big, watery eyes find their way to meet his. Holding him now, Yoongi can feel the depths of the sorrow he carries around with him in his soul. He wanted to touch him earlier, and now that he's had the opportunity, what he senses is staggering. It's the stinging pain of a thousand cuts, all sharp, bloody, and gruesome. Somewhere underneath all of that, he can also sense a broken heart... one that doesn't know how to heal. Before the man in his arms can say anything, he murmurs, "Hoseok-ah, it's okay to come home. You're safe now. We've got you." 

Hoseok cries harder, returning to his shoulder and fisting the fabric of the blazer. Yoongi couldn't care less about the clothing, though. He lets him cry, not interrupting because it seems like he needs it. He needs to fall apart before trying to pick himself back up, and Yoongi will always be a safe place for him to fall. He gently rubs circles into the small of his back, soaking up the sensation of all the feelings rolling off of Hoseok. It feels like he's in both physical and emotional pain, and though it makes his whole heart ache, this moment isn't about him and how he feels. He needs the understanding of Hoseok's soul that holding him provides, and he needs to show him that he isn't going anywhere. Knowing the intricacies of his turmoil means he can do something about it later, when Hoseok is ready to tackle that. Not right now, though. Right now is to let him feel it all, because Yoongi suspects he's been holding this back for a long, long time. 

He continues to hold him tight, coming to terms with the fact that he's _right here._ This isn't a dream. This is reality. Hoseok is here; he's tangible, touchable, and _alive._ Inhaling the familiar scent of him reminds him of the days where things were finally looking up for the first time in his life, and that reminder feels promising in the moment. His scent still smells like jasmine, even after all of this time. Though his scent is familiar, there is a subtle difference to it now that he can't quite place, though it enhances his already good smell. 

Slowly, all thoughts disappear as he brings his hand back up to stroke Hoseok's caramel coloured hair, starting at the roots and gliding downwards before he repeats the motion. The gesture does the trick; in his hold, Hoseok melts against him, tension leaving him more with every gentle touch, though he's been holding his breath, especially when he nuzzles Yoongi's neck. The sensation makes his heart flutter inside his chest, even though there isn't any air tickling the skin there.

"I missed you," Yoongi says quietly, shivering slightly at the tingly sensation washing over him. Being next to him feels just as powerful as being around Namjoon, like each of them are his personal batteries, providing him with endless energy. 

The heart shape of Hoseok's lips disappears as he purses them. His eyes are full of unwavering devastation, despite all of his attempts to comfort him, sending a cold shock of fear down to the tips of his toes. He shakes his head, more in response to his own thoughts than Yoongi's words. It looks like there are a thousand things he wants to say before he finally speaks. "Hyung... I missed you, too," he says, his voice gravelly from crying. "I love you. I love you so, so much, Yoongi... but I can't. I can't go home, I'm... different now. I'm not the same person you remember."

Yoongi's hand instinctually tightens on his delicate, petite waist out of fear that he'll leave him. It's irrational panic flooding him right now. Tears of his own spill from his eyes, making Hoseok's face blurry. "Don't do that. Don't push me away. Please stay." The words come out choked and frantic from his own desperation. If he lets him go now, he's not sure that he will ever get him back. Far too much is at stake; it feels like it will be a permanent goodbye, and that would kill him. His heart is fragile in Hoseok's hands, and that would break it. "I don't care that you're not the same. I never stopped loving you. I still love you." The words are out now, and though Hoseok's love for him is probably platonic and doesn't mean what he wants it to, it feels good to get his confession out. 

Hoseok shakes slightly as he takes in the words, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall down his flawless, fair skin. "I can't... I can't let love be the reason you get hurt. I love you both too much to let you get hurt. If I go with you, you'll always be at risk. I can't let the horrors of my past touch you, hyung." Hoseok's eyes are wistful as he brings a hand to the blonde's cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "You will be so much safer without me in your life. Take care of Namjoonie, okay? And yourself." He lets his own tears fall before kissing Yoongi's hairline, returning the one he gave him earlier. "Goodbye," he murmurs so softly, Yoongi almost doesn't hear it. 

He doesn't have time to process the words, especially not with those lips on his forehead feeling so inexplicably _right._ His heart feels like it's breaking apart despite that, though. It's shattering into a million pieces. It takes him a moment to collect himself, remembering how to use his tongue to _speak_ otherwise Hoseok is going to leave him. "Seok, please, please don't go," he pleads. "Whatever you faced in your past, we can face it together. We're stronger together. Just talk to me, to _us._ Namjoon and I love you. Let us help." 

The trembling in Hoseok's lips gives him hope that he can get through to him. If his words have an effect, he won't stop. "We've got you now. You are safe with us. You can trust us to keep you safe. You don't need to hide anymore. You can come home to the people who love you." 

With every word, Yoongi thinks he's making progress. He can see in his eyes that he wants to do everything Yoongi offers, and he thinks... maybe he will cave in. 

Only he doesn't. Hoseok just shakes his head, a distraught expression on his face that Yoongi doesn't know how to change. "Yoongi, I wish that was true," he answers, saying his name like a prayer. His hands move to gently cup his cheeks, guiding him to meet those intensely dark brown eyes. "There's just too much you don't know, and I can't tell you. What I can tell you is that I love you both... and all of my family back home. I want you and Namjoon to be happy, to forget about me and move on with your lives. I’ll always be with you in spirit. That’ll have to be enough,” he says, letting some more tears of his own drip down his cheeks. 

The eye contact between them is intense as Yoongi tries with all of his might to think of some way to get him to open up, to get him to change his mind. But his thoughts slowly begin to quiet in his mind the longer he looks at those deep, ominous orbs. Those dark brown eyes are enchanting and powerful, something inside them is awakening like a dragon from hibernation. The longer he looks, the more like they begin to look speckled with a warm, golden light. A sleepy, fatigued feeling begins to settle over him, and he finds himself blinking a few times trying to rid himself of the feeling, though it only grows stronger as the light looks brighter. 

“Listen to me,” Hoseok says in a low, seductive voice that causes a shiver to run down his spine. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that his accent is so much softer, so much more himself… he isn't pretending to be anything right now. “The DNA test results were incorrect. I’m not Hoseok Jung. I am Hoya Park, and you know it to be true. You will not contact the lab in regards to the blood sample from Hoya ever again. You will forget that this conversation ever happened. Tonight, you pulled me aside to congratulate me on my solo performance, and that’s it. You’ll tell Namjoon that you were wrong about me being Hoseok, and you will leave me and everyone I’m friends with alone. You’ll enjoy your time here in Seattle and then eventually go home.” 

Yoongi feels like Odysseus sailing into unknown waters, lured by the unsettling and beautiful sound of the siren’s call. Hoseok’s words are enchanting and alluring, painting a perfect story. It's the story he wants to tell. Except… the siren’s call lured people to their deaths. Just like Odysseus, Yoongi is anchored to something, tethered to something he cannot identify... and he realizes that _no._ None of the words that Hoseok is saying are true. It's a story, just another lie. It isn't the truth, and he cannot let himself get caught up in it. 

As if a bucket of chilly cold water dumps on him, he snaps out of it and subconsciously pushes Hoseok a safer distance away with a shaking hand. “What… what _was_ that? What were you trying to do?” he asks nervously, scared to look him in the eyes. 

Hoseok shivers against him and recoils backwards, hitting a wall behind him with a soft thud. His breathing begins to race though, and Yoongi knows he’s not the only one scared, but he feels so uneasy and skittish. The feelings settling over him remind him of Namjoon after he came down from getting his wallet. 

Oh. _Oh._

“Hoseok, what was that?” he repeats, insistent on getting an answer. Cautiously, he looks up towards his face, and… He looks petrified with fear and confusion, disoriented like Yoongi felt moments ago. His mouth opens and closes as if he’s struggling to form a response... until finally he does.

“What are you?” he asks, betrayal crossing his expression for a moment before he hides his face in his hands. 

It’s not what Yoongi expects to hear at all, and it only leads him to be more confused. “What kind of a question is that? I’m just me. What did you just try to do to me? Answer me,” he demands, his voice quivering with every word. He reaches out, grabbing Hoseok's arm. Nearly his whole bicep fits in his hand, and he quells down the worry of how thin he is because it's not the priority right now. The unsettling feeling blooming over him take precedence... Nothing makes sense.

“I’ve never met a human resistant to compulsion,” Hoseok says, more like he’s talking to himself trying to make sense of all this. “You can’t possibly be…”

Meanwhile Yoongi grows more confused than before. “You say that as if you aren’t.” 

Hoseok steps away from him, and says in a startlingly loud voice, “Jimin hyung, come to my dressing room and bring Jin.” 

His brows furrow because… Hoseok doesn’t have a phone in his hand, but it’s strikingly clear that he’s not talking to him. He doesn’t bother to ask about it, though, considering Hoseok’s ignored all of his questions so far, and he tries to focus on _breathing_ so he doesn’t get a panic attack amidst all the chaos. He wishes Namjoon was here. _Inhale, exhale._

Not even a full minute later, the door swings open, revealing both Jimin and Seokjin. Jimin immediately rushes over to Hoseok and envelopes him in a hug, asking him what happened as he side eyes Yoongi. Jimin's gaze on him like this is terrifying, so he drops his own eyes to the floor under the heat of it and prays to any gods that will listen that things will become clearer. Maybe Yoongi will finally get some answers. When he looks back up at the pair, thankfully Jimin is no longer looking at him, only at Hoseok. 

“Yoongi can’t be compelled,” Hoseok says, not daring to look at him at all. He looks so small, and it isn't just because of his appearance. It's visible in the way he carries himself right now, so vastly different from his presence on stage. 

“Blimey, that’s… that doesn’t make sense,” Jimin states, whipping his head towards Yoongi yet again, as if he personally had harmed Hoseok. The marginally shorter man never struck him as intimidating before tonight, but right now, Yoongi shies away from him reflexively. His whole body feels like its on pins and needles. “What _are_ you?” he questions with an intense look in his eyes, echoing Hoseok's words from earlier.

Yoongi doesn’t think anything he says will be the right answer for them… Presented with the idea that he isn't human, it's like something just _clicks_ into place. That could explain so much, but he doesn't know what the hell any of that means. He doesn't know what he is if he isn't human. He doesn't know that it's possible to be anything else, to be something different. His thoughts are racing and frantic, and he's not sure how to form words at the moment.“I… I don’t know,” he answers honestly, forcing the words out. He's curling in on himself, as if trying to protect himself from the thoughts that are eating away at him. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

Seokjin walks over to him, hands raised in surrender while he wears a curious expression on his face. “None of us will hurt you. I promise we won’t hurt you, Yoongi,” he says in a gentle tone. “Can I come closer?” 

He wants to say no, but he doesn’t see any other choice. He nods timidly, his gaze flickering back to Hoseok, who still won’t even look at him. As a matter of fact, Hoseok looks like he’s ready to break down. Yoongi quells the instinct to go to him and comfort him, because right now he definitely needs to focus on himself. 

When Seokjin gets closer, he lifts his right hand even higher and tenderly places it on Yoongi’s forehead. It’s only there for a moment before he jolts backwards and gasps as if he’d been electrocuted just by touching him. Seokjin clutches his hand to his chest like he would if he’d been burned. He isn’t the only one affected, though. Yoongi's forehead feels hot where Seokjin touched him, like someone's laid a steaming hot rag across his skin there. His breathing grows shallower and his vision grows blurry. He’s sure that his hands are slick with sweat, and the room feels like a steam sauna. Everything is too hot. 

“He's a witch.” 

Those are the last words Yoongi hears before he loses consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the reveal~ I don't think anyone is surprised by it? Except for the characters, of course. ;D 
> 
> Also, a story about Hoseok's Black Swan solo! I combined elements from the original film by Darren Aronofsky (which has been one of my favourite films already for years), the modern dance version performed by the MN dance crew, the regular choreography BTS performs, the special MMA stage where JiKook performed a pas de deux (I will LITERALLY never get over that), and also, Boy Meets Evil. I'm not sure how obvious each of the inspirations show, but I tried to incorporate technical terms (because I myself am a musician and dancer) to convey the choreography I created! Hopefully I didn't lose anyone xD Sometime I might film myself dancing the choreography I came up with for Black Swan to show everyone. We'll see! 
> 
> Sorry (not sorry) for the cliffhanger! Next chapter is going to be HUGE so it'll take me a while to edit, though I'm hella excited for everyone to read it. Drop in the comments below what you thought of this chapter or what you think will happen next! 
> 
> If you wanna scream at me about literally anything, feel free to hmu on twitter! (@kaesm21)


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